


The Prophecy of Assignment (Full Collection)

by Xephina_The_Eleven



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xephina_The_Eleven/pseuds/Xephina_The_Eleven
Summary: This is an Alternate Universe of my story The Pain of Assignment!So, What happens to traits when a host passes away?





	The Prophecy of Assignment (Full Collection)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read this story in chapters, you can find it on my page in my Sanders Sides BROTP One-Shots book!

Traits were not born with their hosts, instead they were assigned. When a child was brought into the world, a unique combination of four main aspects was appointed to them for the entirety of their lives, creating each individual’s personality. When the host passed away, depending on how fulfilling their life had been and the impacts they had had on those around them, their soul would be sent to The Fields of Asphodel, or worse Tartarus. If a person was particularly selfless, contributing much to society, they along with their traits would be granted the gift of eternal paradise that was Elysium. That was the highest honor that any facets could achieve, which meant the number sent there was extremely low. Most aspects would return to their life in the Astral Plane with only one way to remember the host they had lost; a symbolic mark. This mark would be comprised of what had been most important to the one they had lost, and the more sentiment the facets felt, the closer the mark would be to the heart.

“You either die a hero or live long enough to watch yourself become the villain.” This was a quote that all traits knew, as it represented their lives well. The longer they lived, the darker they would become. Over the years of having host after host, their outlook on life would become cynical and harsh as they became disgusted with the pains of assignment. Unfortunately, the aspects themselves were immortal, so unless they achieved Elysium, they would all become ‘the villain’ eventually.

Due to the facets’ immortality, they didn’t really use years to measure their age, and instead used the phase of life they were in to define them. At the age of twenty-one, a trait was old enough to be assigned, so that marked the beginning of their moral phase. After a few hosts, they would lose some of their childhood innocence and they would change into the creative phase of their lives. It would take almost twice as long for them to switch phases again, but when they did the change was much more dramatic. They were no longer bubbly and hyper, but cold and analytical as they entered their logical phase. That was where they would remain for another thousand years at least until finally they would enter the longest and darkest phase of their life as a fight-or-flight reflex.

There was another way to break this cycle, but it was one that most tried to avoid, because once the change was made, there was no going back. If a facet experienced a prolonged period of a negative emotion such as anger, grief, or fear, they could be overtaken by said emotions and become a corrupted trait. If this were to happen, they could still be assigned, but never again would they take the place of one of the four main aspects. Since this change made these facets volatile and sometimes violent, for the safety of those in the Astral Plane, the corrupted traits were forced to live in The Fields of Asphodel between assignments.

No matter which aspects were assigned to them, there were people born and passing away every day, which meant there were facets constantly entering and leaving the Astral Plane, Asphodel, and Elysium. That was not to mention the human souls who were also being sent to Elysium, Asphodel, and Tartarus to live their eternal lives or damnation. Having so much traffic between the four planes and the world of the living, a proper government was imperative to ensure that everything ran in an orderly fashion; this is where the story of the Princes began.

There were four brothers who ruled over the four lands, and each was in a different phase of a trait’s life. Once they reached the chapter of their existence in which they were fated to live forever, they stopped aging. This was only one of two ways that they differed from their subjects, the other came after they had finished their royal training and entered the eternal part of their life. They were granted a pair of brilliant wings, given to them upon the day of their coronation, which reflected the royals’ personalities. This made it impossible for anyone else to impersonate the leaders of the four lands.

The Eldest Prince ruled over the night when stars filled the darkened skies, and the moon cast its silvery light upon the world below. He would remain a fight-or-flight reflex for all time, and was the only monarch who had gone through all four phases of a trait’s life. His responsibilities differed greatly from that of his brothers, as he commanded the Astral Plane’s militaristic forces. His troops also included the wardens sent to escort human souls to their final place of rest or torment, and those who brought aspects back to their homes. Even the guards tasked with protecting the palace were under the command of the Prince of the Night, who’s attentive and observant nature made him the perfect candidate to protect their kingdom and all who lived within it.

The Second-Eldest Prince destined forever to be a logician held yet another important role in their worlds. He formulated the speeches used to address their subjects, but more importantly, he drafted the laws to be voted upon by the Council of the Ethereal Planes. Economics and trading between the four lands were also under his jurisdiction, filling his days with books, pens, writing, and calculations. It was his contributions which kept their home from devolving into anarchy.

The Second-Youngest Prince eternally in the creative stage of his life oversaw the day from the moment the sun rose in the east to its setting in the west as the Prince of the Day. He held the most power in the eyes of the common person as he was the monarch who interacted with them the most, attending most of the social gatherings, showcases, and dances put on by nobility. He also was the one to stand before their subjects and announce the laws that had been put into place by his older brother and the Council.

Finally there was the Youngest Prince, who despite his age arguably held the most important position in their government. Eternally in the moral phase of a trait’s existence put him in the perfect position to oversee the communications and political relations between the four lands. He worked with the delegates in charge of Elysium, The Fields of Asphodel, and Tartarus, ensuring that they were updated with the newest laws and developments in the other three worlds. It was also nearly impossible to lie to him, since his natural born sense of right and wrong helped him to see through any fabrications presented to him by the senators. Still, he enjoyed a game every now and again, and remained cheerful most of the time, but this in no way made him naïve. If things got out of control he had no issues calling upon the Prince of the Night to gather his forces.

Together the Princes ruled over the Astral Plane, Elysium, Asphodel, and Tartarus with a firm yet justified authority. After nearly a millennia of his lone rule before his brothers joined him in a place of power, the Eldest Prince had decreed that their royal standings would not keep them from being assigned. This was a choice he had made to ensure that they remained thoughtful of the hardships that came along with assignment, whether that be losing a host, or a group of friends. This made them more empathetic towards, and helped them gain a better understanding of the struggles their subjects endured so frequently. The law remained in effect; still, it was uncommon for such an event to occur, but when it did, the Council of the Ethereal Planes was left with precise instructions. These instructions allowed the Council to look after all four worlds during the temporary absence of any or all of the monarchs.

However, there was a prophecy, which had been delivered so long ago that the exact wording had long since been forgotten. In the many millennia that followed, the prediction had devolved from story to legend and from legend to myth. In current times it was told as a simple fairytale bedtime story for children, with no one being aware of the weight the words held.

The tale claimed that there would be a time of crisis, with the fear of war looming on the horizon, and all hope would seem lost. During this time, the fear would be further stuck into the hearts of the people when all four Princes were assigned. When they returned however, it would be revealed that they had all been assigned to a single host, whose soul despite being honorable and ethical, yet intelligent and cautionary, would not achieve Elysium. It was foretold that the Prince of the Night would go to Asphodel in search of allies for the upcoming war, and in doing so would find the host’s soul. The Eldest Prince would bring the human back to the Astral Plane, where he would take his place as King, and even the sovereign four would bow before him. He would be a kind and just ruler, and his reign would bring prosperity and peace to their worlds, but it was just a story.

As time came and went, the people were more focused on real matters, including how odd it was that it had been over two-hundred years since any of the Princes had been assigned. Most put it off to the currently unstable relations regarding the delegates overseeing The Fields of Asphodel. The traits who were now in power had managed to rise to their positions by unknown means; any documents made on the matter, if any, had either been damaged or destroyed, and it wasn’t hard to see why. The aspects who had risen to power were not Council elects, as they never would have chosen corrupted traits to lead any of the four worlds, even Tartarus.

News of the Asphodelian Delegates had unnerved those who lived their lives in the Astral Plane, as they knew how volatile corrupted traits could be. The monarchs had tried to settle any fears, even resorting to trying to file official documentation instating the corrupted traits as Council elects, but nothing had gotten through. It had even reached the point that the Moral Prince was struggling to discern if any of the delegates were lying to him. The Logical Prince had been forced to implement new laws to keep them in check, and to monitor the delegates in Tartarus and Elysium as well. As all these changes were taking effect, the Prince of the Day did his best to keep their subjects calm, while the Prince of the Night secretly gathered his troops in case they needed to liberate Asphodel by force. In the end it was all the rulers could do to keep everything in order while also working with the new developments.

Just when everyone was beginning to wonder if the Princes were preparing for battle, they disappeared, and as it turned out, they had been granted their assignment at the most inopportune moment. At first it was all the Council could do to keep the people from panicking, but then something even more unforeseen happened. The threats from Asphodel, while still concerning, became less frequent and seemed a tad more scrambled as if they were unsure of how to go on trying to intimidate the Astral Plane.

Since a trait’s appearance shifted to match that of their host, it would be years before the Princes would realize that they had been assigned to the same person; a young boy named Thomas Sanders. He was clever, and as aspects often did, they would appear to him as his childhood imaginary friends, but what took them all by surprise was that he continued to be able to see them, even in adulthood. He began calling on them to make videos which he would put up on the internet about solving internal conflicts, which actually helped the four to bond as friends. Due to their appearance change, Thomas’s fans merely thought that he played all the roles himself.

They all grew close to one another as if meeting for the first time, and it wasn’t until they revealed their names that the truth came to light. The logical facet had been the first to do so, and the others came to realize that he was indeed Prince Logan. Soon after his creative counterpart followed suit, revealing himself to be Prince Roman, next was the moral side who turned out to be Prince Patton. He never said why but the fight-or-flight reflex had been extremely hesitant to reveal his own identity, despite knowing who he had been assigned with. Finally, after much heartache and asking repeatedly he was revealed to be Prince Virgil. In the end, Roman was the only one who continued to use the title of Prince, but their host simply put that off to his somewhat egotistical nature, and his unabashed love for Disney.

Once they all understood who they had been assigned with, they would come together when they weren’t filming and discuss the worries they had about how their lands were fairing in their absence. They tried to get information by seeing how those younger than Thomas acted, seeing if their traits would betray anything, but their efforts proved fruitless. Even with the looming fear about their home; over the span of his life, they all grew close to Thomas, and it was clear that he cared about them as well.

Days, months, and years passed, and they knew the time they had with Thomas was drawing to a close. Eventually he was hospitalized, and despite their hopes and wishes, it soon became evident that he would never return home. When he passed, they all hoped he would achieve Elysium, but that would still be a bittersweet ending for the Princes. Thomas would get to live his afterlife in eternal paradise, but they would never see him again. They couldn’t join him in Elysium because their loyalties forced them to remain in the Astral Plane. Due to the looming threat of war, they had to look after all of their subjects, traits and human souls alike, which meant they would have to sacrifice their relations with someone they had all grown close to.

Being torn between their grief for the one they would soon lose, and their fear for their people, each of them channeled their emotions differently. Roman spent most of his days trying to find some way to extend Thomas’s life and help their subjects at the same time. Logan grew quiet, but he had returned to their useless attempts to gauge how their worlds had faired without them. As the youngest, Patton wasn’t as accustomed to losing a host, especially not one as meaningful as Thomas, which was only made worse by the realization that he may not have time to grieve when they returned home. Then there was Virgil, and as the eldest, he had been through this process more than any of the others, but even he recognized that the circumstances were different this time, so he spent his time trying to console the others.

As time slipped by, they learned when the doctors, nurses, and family members would come by, so when he was alone, the four would take their places at Thomas’s bedside. More than once during the last few weeks either Logan or Virgil would be forced to drag Patton back to the mind-palace when he became hysterical. Eventually it was decided that the moral side couldn’t be left alone with Thomas for fear that he would not leave if a crisis called medical staff into the room. Meanwhile, Roman tried valiantly to not let his own sorrow show, but more than once he had returned to the mindscape with tears rolling down his cheeks.

During the day the four of them would sit with their companion between rounds, trying their best to be brave. Then by night, Virgil would ensure he wasn’t alone, taking the place by his bedside while his brothers slept. To their dismay, Thomas slowly became less responsive, eventually slipping into a coma from which they knew he would never awake.

After a few more days of agonizing decline, they finally heard it, the single high-pitch and unbroken from a monitor near the bed which indicated the lack of a heartbeat. Patton started sobbing hysterically, clinging to Logan; Roman had his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with grief for their fallen friend. A quick glance passed between Logan and Virgil, both with eyes full of tears and understanding, someone would be in any second; they needed to leave. It took a bit of prompting for the other two to join them, but finally the four gave their hushed goodbyes, and synced out of the world of the living, bidding farewell to the best host they had ever had the honor to serve.

Despite knowing what came next, each of them was taken by surprise when they didn’t appear in the mind-palace commons. The Princes had returned to the Astral Plane, and now stood in the familiar halls of the palace, clueless of the state their worlds were in. That simple fact left them unsure as to whether or not they would have the chance to properly grieve for the one who had touched their hearts in a way that no other host ever had or would again.

They all stood in silence, and though he hated to do so Virgil was the first to break it, his voice sounding out of place in the open-air corridor. “I…I know we all want to pay our respects to Thomas, and mourn our loss, and we will in good time.” He cast his gaze to the courtyard below, making a point to regain his regal demeanor, “for now though, we need to take back our positions. We need to find out what has happened while we were gone and announce our return to our subjects of the four lands.”

For a few moments he worried that the others would simply ignore his words, but to his relief, Roman stepped forward. “Virgil is right…we have sovereign duties to uphold, so let’s find one of the castle staff and have them gather the Council for a conference.”

There was no verbal response, but together they made their way through the winding corridors, and it wasn’t long before they stumbled upon one of the royal advisors. Due to the lack of their royal attire, the whimsical side was the only one initially recognized as a Prince. It didn’t take long however for the woman to realize she was in the presence of all four monarchs, and was falling over herself to apologize for the mistake.

As she continued to bow before them, the patience of the darker character was beginning to wear thin, but Logan was finally able to draw her attention. “Your mistake was an honest one and requires no apology, but there are important matters we need to attend to. Would you be so kind as to have the Council of the Ethereal Planes convene in the conference room in the next half-hour?”

She nodded profusely, “of course your highnesses!” Bowing once more, she scurried off to take care of the task that had been assigned to her.

When they were alone once more, the creative trait looked over each of his siblings with disapproving eyes. “This will be the first time in nearly a century that any one from the Astral Plane is going to be seeing us…and the three of you don’t even look like Princes.” The fight-or-flight reflex glanced forlornly at his stressed jeans and patchwork jacket as his brother continued, “no matter how upset we may be, we need to show that we are in control. We have no idea what kind of state our world is in, so the Council Members need to know that we are ready to take back our positions, and that includes looking the part.”

“He’s right, we don’t appear regal in the slightest,” Virgil took a deep breath, “I’m going to go change into my military uniform. I’ll meet you at the conference room in twenty minutes.”

Before he could turn away, Roman spoke, “we need to look unified, so if you're hell bent on wearing your uniform, I won’t protest, but could you please wear your crown for once?”

“Our lands could be at war and you're worried about what I will be wearing,” he shook his head, unwilling to start such a petty argument. “Fine, I’ll wear the crown…see you in twenty.”

They each gave small gestures to bid one another farewell before they went their separate ways to retrieve their uniforms. As he walked, the gloomy attribute realized that he wasn’t being as attentive as usual; normally he would have at least admired the forested décor. He didn’t know if it was the grief that plagued his mind or how swiftly he needed to walk to get to the other side of the palace where his room resided that kept him from enjoying being back in his lavish home.

His thoughts ran rampant as he walked, the mere idea being ignorant to the issues and threats to the world they had sworn to protect made him uneasy. The worries must have spurred him forward, because he reached his destination in record time, but what unnerved him was just how little of the walk he remembered. The truth was, if he was going to take his place back as Commander In Chief, he was going to have to put his feelings aside and be the leader his people deserved.

Using the time alone to clear his mind, he took his dark-grey uniform from his closet and rested it on the bed. Removing his jacket, he carefully hung it where his uniform had been, unwilling to let go of something that was so meaningful to him. It wasn’t until he made his way back to the center of the room that his eyes caught his reflection, and what he saw caused him to freeze. Just above the collar of his acid-washed, purple shirt was a sliver of brilliant colors; taking off the article of clothing, his breath caught in his throat at what was revealed.

He had completely forgotten about the symbolic mark he would receive, and it did indeed fit Thomas well. Outlined like a molecule with both ionic and covalent bonds, it was still clearly the YouTube logo. The tattoo was filled in with a rainbow as opposed to the usual scarlet, and represented the three most important and influential parts of Thomas’s life. The bright hues were an illustration of his sexuality, the framework portraying his passion for chemistry, and the shape showed his care for the content and talent he had shared on the video website.

Sorrow clawed at his heart like ice as he took notice of the mark’s location, it rested just below his left collarbone. It was closer to his heart than any other mark he had ever received, showing just how much Thomas had meant to him. Glancing away from his reflection, he knew that the same mark had been granted to his brothers, and something told him that it was just as close to their hearts.

Running his fingers over the tattoo one last time, he turned back to his uniform, forcing his grief away. How was he supposed to step up and take care of his subjects when he kept getting distracted? Shaking his head, he made a point not to look at the mirror again until he was certain that the symbol had been completely covered by his shirt, and his uniform jacket was buttoned up to the neck. Throwing a cape over his sleek black and purple wings, he sheathed his sword at his waist; for the first time since their return, he was beginning to feel like himself again. He about to head for the door when Roman’s request rang in his ears, so with a sigh he took the crown from where it resided on the dresser and deftly placed it on his head.

The golden headpiece clashed horrendously with the silver accents of his cape, clothes, and multitude of service pins. He knew his brother would have something to say on the matter, but then again, he had been the one to ask Virgil to wear the crown in the first place. Rolling his eyes, he subjected himself to his fate by walking out of his room, hoping the others would focus on the more important matters at hand.

Now that he was back in uniform, the castle staff had no issue recognizing him as a Prince, and he had to admit, he was uncomfortable with the bows he kept receiving. Still it was rivaled by the sense of actual comfort he received, not only from being home, but from regaining the control he had lost during their assignment. Using the more positive of the two feelings to remain calm, he navigated the halls until he reached the doors of the conference room. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see that the whimsical side was the only one still absent; he was extremely picky about his appearance, and his extensive wardrobe didn’t help.

The worrisome trait was torn from his thoughts as Patton filled the silence with small talk, “it actually feels pretty weird to look like ourselves again.”

He was right, now that they no longer had a host, they were all taller, their shoulders more broad, but the most prevalent aspect was that they were no longer identical. Though they were similar in many ways, their differences were more noticeable, Virgil had a more muscular build than his siblings as that’s what his responsibilities demanded of him. Still, their eyes were what set them apart most, and that color was also reflected by their wings, both of which depended on what they embodied. Morality had pale-blue coloring which maintained the look of innocence that youth often brought, the next being creativity held sunset-orange hues, which made them seem bold and brave, as they usually were. Then a logical aspect was characterized by stormy-grays, making them appear as if they were always thinking deeply, and a fight-or-flight reflex, such as himself, had eyes and wings of a black and dark-violet color with an intensity that often succeeded in intimidating others. Their hair, while still different, was more reflective of their individual personalities, Virgil’s was black, and more often than not imperfect in some way, and Patton’s often mirrored that, but in a dusty-blond shade. The other two normally had well-kept styles, Logan, as a brunet used his hair much like every aspect of his appearance to seem more intellectual, keeping it slicked back in a way that kept it out of his face. Then there was Roman who would never allow for a single strand to be out of place, even when he was alone, his auburn locks were always pruned so that his crown wouldn’t cause an issue.

The voice of the academic brought him back to the conversation, “for me it is somewhat of a relief to look like myself again. It is much easier for people to take me seriously when my hair isn’t constantly changing colors due to a hos-” He stopped abruptly when he noticed the sharp glare that the observant facet was giving him, Thomas had only been the third assignment for the Youngest Prince. If the eldest of them was in so much pain, he could only imagine how much pain the loss must be creating for their brother.

Thankfully the arrival of the fanciful manifestation broke the awkward tension, “Virgil, we simply must get you another crown! Yours clashes dreadfully with your uniform, gold and silver have no business being in the same ensemble!” He didn’t even feel like sighing in response to the comments, and Roman seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get a reaction, “no matter. There’s nothing we can do about it right now, so let’s go greet the Council; we really shouldn’t stay them any longer.”

Nods were the only form of agreement which passed between them; stepping through the doors, all of the senators were on their feet. The Eldest Prince would always be thankful for the life he had, but it was at times like this that he wished he still had the ability to fade into the shadows. The Council Members were traits who he considered to be his equals, so the way they bowed before him now made him feel as if he were being awarded for something he hadn’t done. It was a gesture that he had despised from the moment he rose to power, but it had become clear quite quickly that it was not a habit that was going to be broken. Still, he didn’t feel right having people practically on their knees just because he had walked into a room, at least in the armed forces he felt that he had in some way earned the respect he was shown. No matter the case, he kept his mouth shut as his siblings seemed fine amongst the worship-like bowing.

In one swift motion, the intellectual got the other senators to take their seats, with the Princes doing the same, “I’m going to cut to the chase here. We need to know what has been happening within not only our government, but our worlds as a whole. Let us begin with the most current events and work our way back from there.”

The Council Leader, who also appeared to be a logical trait, pressed a button on the table causing holographic screens to appear before each person. As they sprang into life, they cast a blue glow around the room, “as you can see, we have had considerable growth in economics and trading during your absence your highnesses.” He tapped on his screen a few times, and everyone’s displays changed, showing file upon file of new information on the topic at hand. “The reason for this prosperous change is attributed to the fear of war, which has continued to simmer over the last century.” He glanced at the Eldest Prince nervously, “this has boosted funding both to and from the militaristic forces, causing a spike in our economy.” His aura of apprehension only grew as he continued, “no threats have yet been acted upon. We believe that the reasoning for this era of peace stems from the valiant men and women in your forces being prepared for any possible developments. It is also thought that Asphodel has not tried to press their threats further because their leading delegate was assigned not long after you were your majesties.”

The other monarchs appeared to be placated by the information, but as Commander In Chief, he needed to know more. He set about flipping through the logs and documentations, and as he expected, they held little to no information pertaining to the forces under his control. The Council was excellent in their tasks of filling in for his brothers, and gave the people the voices they needed in the government, but that did very little to help him. The truth was, they had no idea what was going on in the field, which meant Virgil didn’t have the luxury of getting the information he needed through something as simple as a meeting. Still, he knew he couldn’t just walk out with no explanation, so he decided to give the Council Members a chance, even if he knew it was a waste of time.

“I understand the economic impacts, but I am inclined to ask from a militaristic standpoint, what threats have been made? What plans have been put in place to counter the issues they address, and how have the people reacted?” When his words were met with silence and uncertain glances, he had to remind himself that he was back in a position of power and could not be permitted to show frustration too readily. His only hope for the details he needed now rested with his First-Officer, Commander Hawk. “My most sincere apologies, but I am afraid that I will have to excuse myself from this meeting.”

“Very professional,” thankfully, the analytical side had made the slight to where only he could hear, but it only enforced that his siblings didn’t fully understand what an uprising in Asphodel could mean for all their worlds.

He knew well that the corrupted traits living there had been sent because they posed a threat to the Astral Plane, if those threats were still causing issues from their home in Asphodel, that meant they were even stronger than previously believed. Despite having been granted the same living conditions and luxuries that were available to anyone else, they were still incredibly unpredictable. It would take very little for them to turn their backs on the government which ruled over the four lands, and if they could convince the copious number of human souls in Asphodel to join their plight, it could spell disaster for the other three planes. If they were to take the place of the Princes with that power, then Elysium would not be the haven it was promised to be, and the Astral Plane could fall into anarchy; leaving children and adults in the world of the living without the traits that defined them.

“Once again I apologize for my hasty departure, but seeing as my concerns lie with the armed forces, I’m afraid I must go speak with my Commanders.” He stood, and the senators did the same, bowing deeply before him, “good evening.” He turned to his siblings, “we shall reconvene later and discuss our varied concerns over dinner.” Not giving them a chance to protest, he turned and made his way out of the room; if he was to be diligent in keeping their subjects safe, then he could not risk any further delays.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he put more and more distance between himself and the conference room. He never would understand how his brothers could be so oblivious to such serious matters. They had all discussed their worries while they were assigned, and yet they still expected him to sit in a room with them for hours and neglect the part of the government in charge of keeping everyone safe, he simply couldn’t condone it.

He was forcefully brought back to reality when one of the castle staff whipped around bowing deeply before him, “I-I’m so sorry your majesty, I didn’t know it was you!” The fight-or-flight reflex blinked at him in confusion for a moment before he realized that the man before him had merely nodded when he passed as if only greeting another worker rather than bowing. His light-blue eyes betrayed how young he was, meaning he hadn’t worked in the palace long and more than likely had never seen the Princes in person, “is there anything I can do for you, your highness?”

He made a point to smile so as not to unnerve the servant further, “do you know where I could find Commander Hawk?” He knew exactly where she would be, but he wanted the one before him to have a better memory of his first contact with royalty than just messing up.

“She and the other military leaders have their base of operations set up in the lower levels of the North Wing; you’ll find her there. Can I be of any more service to you?”

He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, keeping his tone soft, “you have been most helpful, thank you.”

Giving him another bow, Virgil dipped his head respectfully to the servant before continuing on his way to the North Wing. A thought struck at him, almost causing him to falter; the leading delegate of Asphodel had been assigned; what if a good portion of his Commanders had as well? That could potentially be the reason for the lack of retaliation concerning the threats made against the Astral Plane. It was at times like this that he wished he could rely on a group such as the Council of the Ethereal Planes, but a group of people sitting in an office would have no more idea about what was going on out in the field than his soldiers did about their economic situation. That meant one thing for him; if he wanted information, he was going to have to work to get it, but he would much rather do that than sit around drafting statements of neutrality or balancing checkbooks. After all, the hands-on aspect of military work was what had drawn him to the position in the first place; he simply couldn’t imagine himself sitting in an office all day.

Arriving in the North Wing, he didn’t know Commander Hawk’s exact location, and the last thing he wanted was to have more people needlessly bowing before him. Still it seemed like that was what he was going to have to do, so he began searching for a staff member. He was spared his fate however when a familiar voice echoed from somewhere down the corridor, “what are you doing soldier? Only Commanders are permitted in this section of the North Wing!”

“Last I checked I outrank you ma’am,” though his words were true, they were laced with a sense of humor.

“Captain Virgil?” The confused calling of his title was followed by swift footfall, “we were beginning to wonder when you would retu- Why in the four planes are you wearing your crown?”

He had to stop himself from sighing with relief; Commander Hawk would never treat him as anymore than he had proved himself to be. “I just left a meeting with the other Princes and the Council early becau-”

She gave him a knowing look as he clipped his headpiece to his belt, “because the Council has absolutely no idea what’s going on in the military despite claiming that we are the reason for their financial success?”

“Exactly…hold on how did you know that?”

She rolled her eyes, “who do you think attended those meetings in your place? Not having you around meant that the two parts of the government were completely separated, so I had to step up.”

Her straight-forward attitude was a breath of fresh air, and her willingness to take responsibility without being asked reminded him of why he had made her Second-In-Command.  Honestly, she had no issue coming to him and questioning orders, or suggesting an idea that could prove more efficient than his own. He couldn’t be expected to do all the work, and she understood that, something that had proved to be most helpful on multiple occasions. “I’m going to cut to the chase, I need to know what threats have been made to our lands, what plans have been made, how things have been dealt with up to this point, and that’s just scratching the surface of what I need to know.”

The First-Officer sighed, “we have much to discuss but I will warn you, you won't like what you hear. I’ll gather the other Commanders, and we can give you a full briefing,” without another word she spun around and began heading down the corridor she had come from, leaving him to follow in her wake.

Virgil knew that he was going to be the last to arrive at dinner, but there had simply been no way for him to leave or rush his meetings with the other militaristic leaders. He had been told so much that the other Princes needed to hear; just as he was sure they had things to tell him. However, with the knowledge he already had, he was ready to jump into action; but if there was anything he wasn’t known for, it was being rash. Rare was the occasion when he allowed himself to get into any situation without as much information as he could get, and a well laid plan of action.

Reaching the door that led to the dining hall, he shook his head to clear it, the last thing he needed at this point was to annoy or worse frighten his brothers with his restless and nervous nature. Regaining the calm, collected demeanor that his position required of him, he stepped into the room, and as he’d expected, the others were already in their seats. All eyes were trained on him as he moved towards his chair, resisting the urge to stuff his hands in his pockets and put his head down from the attention.

“Virgil please tell me that you haven’t lost your crown within six hours of our return!” Roman sounded genuinely terrified over the useless golden band laden with rubies, and rather than feeling the annoyance he expected, envy washed over his being. He found himself genuinely wishing that the possible loss of a pointless artifact was the biggest thing he needed to worry about. He didn’t give a verbal response for fear that his voice would give away what he felt. Wordlessly, he shifted his cape and took the headpiece from its clip and placed it back on haphazardly.

Giving a huff of exasperation, Logan waited until they were all seated to speak, “I know that we all have much that needs to be said, but it would be wise to keep our strength up, so let us eat first.”

No sooner had the words left his lips, did servers enter the room at a rapid pace, setting silver platters before them, piled with enough food to feed his troops and probably more. Their crystal glasses were filled with red-wine before the waiters moved to stand by the walls in case they were to need anything else. The fight-or-flight reflex couldn’t help but feel odd having people to wait on him hand and foot after decades of believing he was an outcast. His colleagues were quick to begin eating, but he felt as if he were expending as much energy to swallow each bite as the food itself would provide. Still, he forced himself to eat a full meal, knowing that as part of the Royal Guard, the night would demand much of him. As Prince of the Night the weight of the people’s safety fell to him alone when the stars filled the skies.

Inane banter filtered through the air, but he couldn’t join in as the thoughts of what his Commanders had said continued to flood his mind. It wasn’t until the light-hearted conversation and jokes carried on well after the meal that it all began to annoy him. He would never understand how they could be so positive, surely they were aware of the dangers that threatened their lands; even the Council wasn’t that blind.

They continued to chatter on like starlings until he could bear it no longer, and his voice came out rougher than intended, “I am going to begin the conversation I believe we have all been avoiding with this; I will be going to The Fields of Asphodel first thing in the morning.”

His claim finally drew his siblings’ attention, their senseless chit-chat giving way to a dumbfounded silence. Eventually, it was Patton who found his tongue, “wh-why is that kiddo?” The last word was a habit he had picked up while assigned, and one he would probably grow out of quickly.

Choosing to ignore that, he attempted to sound a bit more polite in his response, “the delegates ruling there have turned their positions into a dictatorship, and it appears that the leader has returned as well. While…” He trailed off, glancing around at the plethora of waiters, “Thank you for your service, but the matters in which we need to discuss are private; you all are excused.” No one dared question him, simply bowing deeply before hurrying out of the room, leaving them in a momentary silence. Clearing his throat, he continued at a lower tone, just in case anyone was listening, “as I was saying, while speaking with my forces the leading delegate contacted my forces. What he said leads me to believe that we may have an Asphodelian spy in the palace.”

The accusation only added to the perturbed quiet, but eventually it was the creative side who addressed the issue, “why would anyone want to betray us? Besides, no one can cross between planes except for corrupted traits and those who are granted passage by you.”

Had anyone else said the words, Virgil would have taken them as an allegation against himself or his troops, but he knew that had not been the intent. However, try as he might, his voice still resounded like a low growl, “and what makes you so quick to rule out a corrupted trait as the spy?”

The intellectual jumped in before a sharp remark could be made, his grey wings shifting nervously, “first and foremost, the two of you need to remember that we are no longer assigned, so the bickering needs to cease. Next,” he glanced over to the eldest of the brothers, “let me ask a question which may clear up some of the confusion. Why do you believe there to be a spy at all? I may not be as well versed in deciphering threats as you are, but surely a singular message is not enough data to draw a conclusion from.”

“That would depend on what the message contained,” he cast his gaze to everyone sitting around the table. “We have only been back in the Astral Plane for a few hours, with no time to announce our return to our subjects, let alone the other planes…and yet the Asphodelian Delegates were already well aware of our return to the throne.”

Shocked glances were what met his claim, but the academic maintained his composure, “I can understand your apprehension with a message of that caliber, but I fail to see why that requires you to _go_ to Asphodel.”

“If what my Commanders have told me is true and they have no reason to lie, then…” He trailed off, remembering his First-Officer’s exact words, “Asphodel has been turned into a place both in its environment and government comparable to Tartarus.”

Gasps escaped the others, but it was Roman who swiftly regained his regal demeanor, “if it is as bad as you say, and I believe that your troops are telling the truth…” Fear clouded his gaze, “then perhaps _you_ shouldn’t be the one going to Asphodel at all.”

Shaking his head, he thought over his options, “while I agree to some extent and appreciate your concern; sending in my troops would not be the best course of action.” When his words were met with confused glances, he chose to continue, “at best, having my troops go in would make us as the Princes seem weak and unfit to run our worlds, a point of leverage we do not want to give to the Asphodelian Delegates. At worst, it could be seen as a sign of aggression, or an attack, which could put our worlds into the war that we are trying to prevent; besides, I can take care of myself.”

Morality seemed particularly unnerved by the conversation, “we know that son, but what if you were killed…I don’t think any of us could handle that kind of grief right now.”

“If I was killed, I would come back, you know that.” It was true, traits were immortal, but they could still be slain in a sense.

If fatal wounds were delivered to an aspect, then their _death_ would be marked by the disappearance of their body, something he had witnessed in battle many times. The one who had been slain however would then be sent to Tartarus, where they would begin a long and painful trek back to the inter-world gate. He suppressed a shiver at the thought, just like those he commanded, the Eldest Prince had been forced more than once to crawl through the scorching heat and deafening screams of the damned, all while bearing the wounds which had _killed_ him. The Phlegethon River, if it could even be classified as a river was made of flames which flowed through a bed of searing rock, with a bank made of obsidian rocks as sharp as broken glass. Still, there was no avoiding it, as the water, or flames, were the only thing that could keep you from _dying_ again forcing you to repeat the horrific journey through what was literally hell. He nearly gagged at the memory of drinking the liquid-fire which had made his entire body burn like his blood had turned to magma. Still, it replenished the oxygen in your lungs after inhaling so much of the toxic air that made up Tartarus’s atmosphere, and replaced the blood you would lose from your wounds. It was only once a trait had reached the inter-world gate that the excruciating injuries would heal, allowing said trait to return to the Astral Plane. Even then, the whole process could take anywhere from days to years depending on the wounds that sent you there to begin with.

The words of the ethical side drew him from his memories, “we need you here to lead your troops, and even if your death isn’t permanent, I don’t think we could bear your loss…not so soon after Th-Thomas.”

Though his voice had caught at the end of his statement, Virgil was surprised that Patton had been able to summon the courage to say the name that the rest of them had avoided until now. He was about to speak when a waitress cautiously stepped into the room, making them all realize they had forgotten to keep their low volume. As they turned to face her, he wondered what was so important that she was willing to defy their specific instructions.

“M-My apologies for the intrusion your highnesses, I know my presence has not been requested…but may I ask a personal query?”

He held out a hand to stop his brothers from reprimanding her as he noticed the color of her eyes, they were the same shade of purple as her own, making her a fight-or flight reflex. The sheer nature of her being meant that she hadn’t taken the opposition lightly, so he decided to give her a chance. “Despite having disobeyed a direct order, I can see that the decision was not one you made without much thought; so, what is your question?”

She bowed deeply, “thank you, your majesty.” She took a deep breath, and her voice steadied slightly, “w-were you assigned to the same host?”

Logic clearly didn’t understand the relevance of the query anymore than he did as his voice rose into the air, “yes, we returned together. Why do you ask?”

“M-May I be permitted to speak freely your highnesses?” They all nodded, clearly intrigued by what the waitress had to say, “it-it’s just that there is this nursery rhyme that we tell our children.” She shuffled her feet on the carpet, “i-it speaks of a prophecy which was told many years ago.” As she paused, a memory began to tug at his mind as if he knew what she was referring to, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. “It stated that in a time of war, all four of you would be assigned to the same host…”

“Then I as _Prince of the Night_ would go to The Fields of Asphodel to reclaim his soul, bringing him back to the Astral Plane. Once here, he would be King, and even the four of us would kneel before him when he brought peace to our lands.” His tone was breathless as he recalled the rest of the story, prompting the others to look at him in confusion and concern, but the waitress merely nodded in agreement.

After a moment the intellectual scoffed, “you're beginning to sound like Roman; that is no more than a fairytale we tell to children.”

Ignoring the slight, Virgil wondered if he sounded as awed as he felt, “it all lines up though. The story says that in a time of crisis, we would be assigned all at once, but what no one would know was that we had been assigned to the same host.” He glanced down at the table, barely noticing Patton gently gesturing for the waitress to leave, “what are the odds? Honestly, what are the odds that we were all assigned to the same host during a time of political unrest in which our subjects have felt hopeless?” He looked up at his siblings, “ _and_ I just so happen to be going to Asphodel in the morning anyway…why not try and look for Thomas’s soul while I’m there?”

“Virge…I never thought I would have to explain this to you of all people, but once a soul has been sent to their final place of rest or torment, they can't leave. I am aware that we all grieve the loss of Thomas, and would do anything to get him back, but we can't. Furthermore, we can't allow ourselves to be overtaken by some children’s story.” Even the rational facet sounded close to tears, “I know we all wish we could repay him for what he has done for us, but it is simply impossible. The Astral Plane is the one place a human soul cannot go, and let’s say hypothetically that you do manage to find him, could you really give him the false hope of leaving Asphodel over a mere fairytale?”

Logan was right, he didn’t want to find Thomas only to be unable to bring him back; still, he wracked his mind, trying to find any way to verify that the legends were true. Then a realization hit him like a physical blow as he found that he didn’t just _want_ the myth to be true, but he _believed_ that it was true. He couldn’t figure out why though, he had always been as skeptical of stories as his analytical counterpart and yet, he honestly believed this one to be real.

Suddenly the memory that he had been grasping for flooded his mind, and it was the sole reason that he _knew_ the story was true. The events that had occurred had happened hundreds of thousands of years ago; long before his siblings had even been born. At that time even he had still been training to take up his position as Prince of the Night, but he had been the one the prophecy had been delivered to.

He had tried to tell his mentor what he knew, but she had just put it off to his childish imagination, a mentality that nearly everyone shared. The prediction had spoken of _four_ Princes, and at that time, no one knew that he was going to have any siblings; along with that he had not yet discovered his ability to travel between worlds. He had tried for ages to find someone who would believe him, but no one did, so over time the prophecy had devolved into a story; one of which no one could remember the exact wording, even him.

He found it hard to bring himself back to reality, “i-it’s not just a nursery rhyme.”

“Virgil…are you okay?” He was so lost in thought that he couldn’t distinguish who had spoken.

“Y-Yes, but the story, it’s true…and I know because, I was the one it was given to.” He continued before anyone could interject, “it was before any of you were born, I hadn’t even reached twenty-one, or finished my training then. I-I had tried to tell the elder, who was my mentor, but she didn’t believe me, so I told anyone who would listen, but always received the same response. The tale must have spread to become the myth it is today,” the others were giving him worried glances, but he shrugged them off. “Don’t you see…I have the power to grant others access to the other planes, I’ve just never tried it with a human soul before, because there was never any need to!”

The teacher wore an expression of concern and irritation. “and there still isn’t! Virgil you need to let go of this…this fantasy!”

He looked around at the others dismissing the observation that his vision was beginning to tunnel, “how many coincidences are we going to let slide? None of you have the ability to grant others access to other planes, so what are the odds that the Prince who is sent to Asphodel to reclaim the soul is the same one with that exact ability?!”

Morality had apparently gotten to his feet as he now rested a hand on the shoulder of his older brother, “the same child who already had that ability…there’s still a chance it’s all a story Virge.” His voice was filled with sadness, “I never thought I would see the day when grief would get to you this much.”

He jumped away from the one trying to console him, nearly tripping over his chair in the process. As Patton tried to move closer, he backed away shaking his head, “it’s just like when I was an apprentice; no one believes me…why would I lie about this?!”

Now it was Roman who moved forth, “even I have to admit that this…this fairytale seems a bit farfetched. We’re all in grief and would get Thomas back if we could, but you're letting desperation get the better of your good judgment.” He took Virgil gently by the arm, “come on, you need to get some rest, I can take over your duties for the night.”

The fight-or-flight reflex jerked his arm away, taking a few paces back from his brothers, “th-the only thing I’m desperate about is getting you all to see that I am telling the truth; the pr-prophecy is real!” His vision was beginning to fade away completely but he tried to power through it, “n-none of you u-understand I-I-”

Virgil woke with a splitting headache, the lights above him a blinding white, though he didn’t remember going to sleep, especially in the dining hall of all places. As his vision began to adjust to the light he realized his head was resting in Patton’s lap as Roman used one of his sunset-orange wings to fan him. Meanwhile, Logan stood off to one side holding his crown and cape, but the similarity between all three of his brothers was the terrified confusion that glittered in their eyes; what had happened?

When he spoke, his throat felt as if he had just had a drink from the River Phlegethon, “wh-what happened?”

At the sound of his voice, all three turned to face him, but it was the one sitting with him who finally spoke, “how are you feeling kiddo?”

His strength was returning rapidly, and the pain in both his throat and head had already subsided to a dull throbbing, “w-well enough to get off the floor.”

The younger two brothers helped him to his feet and back over to his chair, where he was grateful to see that his wine had been replaced with water. After a few sips, his vocal cords no longer felt as if someone had struck a match to them; still, it was another minute or two before Morality spoke again, “Virge…how much do you remember?”

He thought back to the most recent memory he could recall, “I-I was trying to explain that the old nursery rhyme was true…and then I woke up on the floor.”

Logic drew his attention despite his words not being directed at him specifically, “he doesn’t remember what he said.” He stopped as he seemed to realize that the apprehensive persona could hear him, “i-in regards to the story, I believe I speak for all of us when I say…we’ve had a change of heart about its legitimacy.”

The way the intellectual stuttered unnerved him slightly, “not that I’m complaining, but why did you change your minds?”

“You really don’t remember anything about what happened…do you?”

He held the gaze of the analyst, “after I blacked out, no I don’t; which is usually how blackouts work.”

“You did something before you blacked out though,” his only response to the statement was a confused glance, prompting the second-eldest to continue. “Well, your voice…it changed, it almost sounded like you were yelling at us, but it was raspy.”

“You sounded demonic.” The two of them glared at the creative side, “what…he did!”

“As I was saying, your voice changed…and your eyes began glowing, it wasn’t until after you said something rather disturbing that you blacked out.”

Normally the factual trait was much more confident in his speech, and his words held a sense of determination, but there was no trace of that now, which unsettled him further, “what did I say?”

At first no one moved or said anything, only passing around concerned glances until the most whimsical of the four broke the silence with an angry tone, “if neither of you will tell him, I will.” He looked around, “Logan, where did you put the paper?” The one in question gestured to where he had been sitting at the table during dinner, so Roman walked over to it, “thankfully Logan was able to write everything down. I really don’t think any of us could have remembered everything you said if he hadn’t…and be warned, it’s a bit unsettling.” He took a deep breath before looking down at the paper,

 

_‘In a time with fear of war,_

_The assignment of all four,_

_Princes to a single host,_

_Hope would seem but a mere ghost._

_Then with the host’s final breath,_

_His soul sent away after death,_

_Though he cared not for self-gain,_

_Elysium he would not obtain._

_The tale would break the Princes’ hearts,_

_But they would not fail to play their parts._

_Only then would the four return,_

_To bear the weight of the people’s concern,_

_To Asphodel, the Prince of Night,_

_Would go to try and amend the fight,_

_But then from there he would bring,_

_The Astral Plane’s one true King._

_A man of strength never to cower,_

_Would not be corrupted by his power._

_With a quick wit, but daring and bold,_

_He would still be just, with a heart of gold_

_Once he took his rightful place,_

_His rule would consist of care and grace._

_Before him the sovereign four would kneel,_

_And with that, the worlds’ fate he would seal._

_At the final moment all would see,_

_A true prophecy become history.’_

 

He could hardly believe that he was once again hearing the words he had spoken so long ago, but while he sat in disbelief, the others shared looks of both alarm and shame. This time the kind aspect let his voice rise softly into the silence, “w-we actually wanted to apologize. We thought you were reading too much into a fairytale…”

Logan picked up where his brother left off, seeming displeased by the idea of being wrong, “our dismissal of your beliefs was wrong of us as it appears you possess an ability that none of us had accounted for.” He met Virgil’s gaze, “you may not have even realized it yourself, but you have a gift that very few are blessed with, foresight. When someone has the gift of foresight they can be granted prophetic dreams or visions.”

 _Prophetic_ , the word rang like bells through his mind, how could he have been unaware of such an important detail about himself? Shaking his head to clear it, he rose to his feet and took his cape from where it had been placed on the table, clipping his crown to his belt. He would worry about the prophecy later, for now there were more important matters that he needed to attend to; specifically the safety of their subjects.

Patton spoke with concern just before he got to the door, “where are you going son?”

Throwing his cape around his shoulders, he acted as if the issue which had plagued him only a few moments prior hadn’t happened. “It’s getting late, and I need to know what changes have become of our palace and kingdom.”

“Are you sure you feel up to it?” The fanciful character was the one who voiced his concerns as they all made their way into the hall, “bearing the weight of the people’s safety alone isn’t easy. You just woke up from a complete blackout, and that’s not to mention you intend on going to Asphodel in the morning…I can still take your shift if you need me to, Virge.”

He turned to face his siblings, determined not to show weakness before them now, “I’m fine, and you all know I don’t usually sleep that much anyway.” Despite the concern in the looks he was given, there was truth behind his statement; he could go sometimes for days without rest. That was not to mention that he had no remaining symptoms from his prophetic state. “I’ll be okay, I promise…besides, we all have to _play our parts_.” As they reached the courtyard, he gave them each a reassuring glance, “you guys should probably step back,” each of them did what they had been told, knowing what came next. Taking a deep breath, he extended his deep black and purple wings to their full forty foot span, and with one powerful lash backwards, the now increased pressure beneath the feathers propelled him skywards.

It wasn’t until he had reached an altitude of over two hundred feet, that he remembered why he enjoyed flying so much. He had claimed to hate it in the past, but that had been in an airplane, of which he had had no control over. Now as he glided through the air he could shift his wings, and his direction, altitude, and attitude would adjust accordingly.

Landing on the highest spire of the palace, he looked over their kingdom, the silhouettes of shops and homes outlined by the moon’s first light. The cool evening air whipped at his hair and whistled in his ears, and the sight of the stars twinkling far above him soothed his nerves. Inspired by his newfound confidence, he longed for the speed and agility which came with the slender build and slick feathers of his wings. Not giving the idea another thought, he took off again, but once he was about three hundred feet from the ground, he clasped his wings behind him tightly, staring into a rapid yet controlled fall. He could have sworn he heard his brothers gasp as he whisked past one of the open air corridors, but he didn’t allow that to distract him. Moments before he would have hit the ground, he unfolded his wings, which caught the air beneath them and he glided upwards effortlessly.

He ran his fingers through the leaves of one of the trees which comprised the castle when Roman’s voice reached him through the night air. “We didn’t ask you to scare the living hell out of us Hot Topic!”

The fight-or-flight reflex used only the sound of his sibling’s voice to guide him through the darkness. Tilting one of his wings, he was able to turn swiftly, and within seconds he landed deftly on the railing of the hallway the other Princes were in. All three of them gasped, jumping back in surprise at his sudden appearance, leaving him to chuckle slightly at their stunned expressions. “You all forgot that I’m trained in speed and stunt flying, didn’t you?” They simply nodded, clearly still trying to get over their fright, “well, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Taking off once more he called back to them, “have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning!”

Other than his brief interaction with his brothers after takeoff, the night proved itself to be fairly uneventful; it appeared that his guards had done well in keeping both the palace and their subjects safe during his absence. He had seen a few of them throughout his shift, and while he was still uncomfortable with all the praise he was receiving, Virgil much preferred the salutes his officers gave him, to the worship-like bowing of the other castle staff. Finally, he was beginning to feel like he was home again as he soared through the gentle breeze which accompanied the late hours.

While the moon and stars cast their soft light which turned his black feathers to silver, he used the silence that the night brought as a vigil to remember and pay his respects to his fallen friend. He could only hope that the prophecy would come true and that they would see Thomas again, but for the time being he had to uphold his role as Prince of the Night. Still, he used the time he had to reflect on his memories and all that had been achieved during their assignment, thoughts which pierced at his heart like an icy dagger.

At nearly three in the morning, he was forced to put an end to his vigil as he caught sight of Commander Hawk gesturing for him to join her in the courtyard. Sighing heavily, he took a few final moments of reprieve as he circled the palace one last time before landing across from his Second-In-Command. “What do you need Commander?”

She held his gaze, her deep purple eyes appearing even more fierce in the shadows of night, “we have received messages from both Asphodel and Elysium.” He remained quiet, allowing for her to continue, “Elysium claimed that a threat had been sent to them. As it turns out, that was the same message _we_ received from Asphodel.”

After that he had gone with her to hear the message himself and gain confirmation that the threats had also been sent to Elysium. Due to the nature of the plane, the delegates in Elysium were used to peace in their land, so they had fallen nearly to pieces while speaking with him. They were terrified that the threats were going to be acted on immediately, making it quite difficult for the Eldest Prince to console them. Finally, after nearly an hour of speaking with them they seemed comforted by the fact that actions were already in place to change the behaviors of the Asphodelian Delegates.

As he left the communications room, he could feel anger bubbling up inside him. He could understand if those in Asphodel had issues with the government in the Astral Plane, but there had been no need to put the Delegates of Elysium through such an ordeal. The newest development had lonely enforced his resolve of going and confronting the offenders directly and just as he had said to the Elysium Delegates, there would be consequences.

The next morning though he knew it could be the last time he saw the others for quite some time, Virgil had no intent on giving any goodbyes before he left, knowing they would be fearful ones. By this point he was done with fear, with experiencing it, with hearing it in the voices of those he cared about, and with seeing it inflicted on his people. Now he just wanted to get to The Fields of Asphodel and see an end to the fear which had affected nearly everyone, and defined him for so long.

Before he had left the castle, he had switched out his capes, certain that the one he wore now would serve him far better. As he navigated his way through the forest that lay to the north of his home he unclipped his crown from his belt and placed it on his head. Finally, he reached what to the untrained eye appeared to be a small abandoned cottage, but it was merely a façade. When infused with even the slightest bit of his magic, the doorway into the small building would open like a portal; it was one of the few inter-world gates. He was perfectly capable of teleporting to any plane on a whim, but it used more energy than the gate did, and he felt that his energy might prove to be a limited resource on this trip.

Despite his ability to travel between the four worlds, he generally kept his visits to a minimum, leaving the delegates to govern their lands alone. On the winter and summer solstices he would visit each of the other worlds to ensure all was continuing to run smoothly, but other than that the Prince of the Night remained in the Astral Plane. His reasoning for such a decision came from the position he held; as a militaristic leader, he didn’t want the delegates to feel as if they couldn’t be trusted or that they were being ruled with an iron fist. Even still, he had no issues making trips such as the one he was on now if he thought it necessary.

He shook off the thoughts as he reached the small building, and moved to place his hand on the cold stone of the doorframe when a voice echoed from behind him. “I have to admit, you are one hard man to keep up with…” He turned to see his First-Officer a little ways down the path, breathlessly leaning against a maple tree, of which the leaves had begun to change color with the onset of autumn. Meeting her gaze, he did his best not to let his confusion show, but the truth was, no one was supposed to be accompanying him on his mission, and she off all people should have known that. “If I didn’t know you any better, I would say that you were trying to avoid tradition…surely you haven’t forgotten have you?”

The apprehensive side almost flinched at the shame which coursed through him; in all honesty, he _had_ forgotten that it was commonplace for a lower ranking officer to see off their superior on a dangerous mission. During which, they would promise to keep the Astral Plane safe until their return. “I-It may have slipped my mind,” he knew there was no point in lying as she would just see through any fabrication he tried to come up with. “Having been gone for so long, and with everything that’s going on…yeah I forgot.” He waited until she stepped into the clearing, “so I guess it’s a good thing you decided to follow me.”

“I suppose so,” she gave the archway a worried glance, “good luck down there Virgil, something tells me that you're going to need it.”

He gave her a small smile; the use of his name had been a prompt to remind him that during these meetings they weren’t supposed to use formalities and proper titles. “Thanks Sytha, but you know me, I’ll be cautious.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” once again her eyes flickered to the inter-world gate, “but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going down their alone.”

He shook his head sadly, “you know, you're beginning to sound like my brothers…” He let his gaze drift back to the palace, which was barely visible above the trees, “but you know better than anyone why I have to go alone.”

“Yes I do, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it.” She sighed, standing a bit taller, “oh don’t let me unnerve you. Best of luck down there Virge; I’ll keep things in order here until you return.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he gave her a nod of gratitude, “thanks Syth. I know the Astral Plane will be well taken care of with you in charge of its defense. I’ll see you soon,” with that, he placed his hand on the stone doorway, which glowed purple under his touch.

In the blink of an eye, the militaristic monarch found himself in Asphodel, but for a moment he wondered if he had accidentally appeared in Tartarus. Taking a deep breath, he realized that his lungs filled with oxygen rather than toxic fumes proving that he had gone to the right world. Still, the clean air was the only thing which resembled The Fields of Asphodel as he knew it to be.

At first glance, the entirety of the plane which was usually bustling with activity as those sent there went about their afterlife, appeared to be nothing more than a barren wasteland. Many things looked scorched as if a fire had broken out, destroying the entirety of the plane; leaving only the trunks of what were once immense and life-giving trees standing blackened and burned. Homes and shops which had managed to withstand the blaze had shattered windows, roofs which were beginning to cave in, and doors ripped from their frames. Crops, which were usually tended to by the souls who resided in the land lay withered and lifeless as if forgotten by those who had planted them. Even the river, which was the main source of water for the world ran almost completely dry, as if someone had drained it. The ground took on a grey coloration from the ash that had settled there, and the sky held a dull hue, making it look like Asphodel was suffering through some form of volcanic winter.

He now understood the comparison to Tartarus; this plane was meant for those who had been relatively influential in the world of the living. Here they were supposed to be able to spend their afterlife much like they had their life before it with both the good and bad aspects of it. Now however, The Fields of Asphodel held no resemblance to what it had once, and still should have been.

Looking around, the only places worth noting were bright and brash compared to the rest of the plane. The first he laid eyes on was the center where the human souls would appear when they were initially sent to the plane. What was supposed to be a place to help them adjust to their new life looked more like a prison than a welcoming center. Still, it paled in comparison to the Delegates’ Center, which seemed to have leeched all the light and color from the rest of the world, taking it as its own. Now it rivaled the Princes’ palace in the Astral Plane in appearance, luxuries, and most importantly, guards.

Seeing the destruction and devastation, he knew he would need to tread with care, and that included changing how he looked. Even the dark-grey of his uniform seemed brilliant compared to the landscape he was in, which would make him a target. That added upon the fact that he didn’t necessarily want random strangers to come up to him just because he was a Prince, he knew he needed a change of attire. Thankfully, he had expected such a necessity, and had switched out one important article of his clothing, his cape. His normal one matched his uniform, a simple dark grey with no hood, but he had a special cape he had crafted himself for moments such as these.

This cape, or his _Shadow Veil_ as he had named it was a product of his own design and just appeared to be made of black fabric with deep purple patterns, but that was just a façade. What made the cloak special had nothing to do with the fabric itself or its more fancy appearance; what made it so useful depended solely on its stitching. At first glance it just looked like white thread had been used, but upon closer inspection it was shining silver, as it had been carefully crafted with an extremely rare material known as _Angelwright_. The name was a clever one as the material could only be taken from the feathers which fell from the wings of the Princes themselves. Once the feathers were obtained, they could be refined into _Angelwright_ thread; one inch of which took at least ten feathers. Still, any garment stitched with the material held a special ability; it could shift the wearer’s appearance to anything they wished. It was truly the best form of camouflage there was, and if _Angelwright_ were not so hard to come by, he would surely use it to line the uniforms of his troops. The material was so difficult to make however, he was only half way done with a cape for only _one_ of his brothers.

Flipping his hood up, he activated the _Angelwright’s_ spell like abilities, causing it to glow like moonlight for a moment as he imagined what he wanted it to change to. Soon, he looked nothing like a monarch as his uniform, badges, and even his crown faded away to ill fitting and dirtied off-white fabric. He had willed his clothes to appear like that of an Asphodelian Soul, which should have been normal, casual clothes, but this was nothing like he had expected. What he now wore looked more like oversized washcloths than clothing; even his hair, skin, and eyes had become only muted copies of what they had been only moments before.

Becoming more disgusted with the state of Asphodel by the second, he accepted that he had been fully disguised, leaving him to move freely through the plane. He made his way cautiously towards the Delegates’ Center, but as he walked the ruined landscape, homes, and towns only served to infuriate him further. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that there was almost no one around despite The Fields of Asphodel being the world with the highest population. Despite the number of human souls sent there on a regular basis, he could only see children who had sadly passed away young. Every now and again he would see a teenager rushing around trying to take care of toddlers, or to watch over the children, but from what he could see there were simply no adults.

Putting the observation aside, he pressed on until he reached the steps that lead to the rather extensive gardens surrounding the Delegates’ Center. The colors in the area assaulted his eyes after his trek through the near monochromatic scheme that seemed to cover the rest of the plane. It almost looked as if someone had taken all of the beauty which should have been scattered throughout the land had been condensed into this one terrace.

As he made his way through the offensively bright setting, he was beginning to understand why the adults were not with the children. By the looks of it, they were being made to work here, maintaining the flower beds, hedges, and large waterfalls cascading down either side of the walk ways, which explained what had happened to the river as well. Glancing to one side he realized that someone had a sick sense of humor, seeing as the only trees in the gardens hung thickly with a deep red fruit, pomegranates.

In ancient Greek myths, it was said that by consuming the seeds of the fruit, the one who had eaten them would be forced to spend eternity in the underworld. The story was of course just a myth, more than once a human soul had been wrongfully sent to Asphodel, and he had been able to take them to their rightful place, even long after they had consumed the fruit. Even still, it was a twisted reminder to those who remained, that they would never leave, and even more so that they had to work on the trees themselves.

He was torn from his thoughts as a woman reached out to him, “don’t go there! Try to get away!” She sounded breathless, her frock torn and covered with the dirt of her labors, “please, for your own sake, get as far from here as possible!” After looking at her for only a moment longer, he could see the lacerations on her back, wounds which could only be made through the use of a whip. He looked down at the woman forlornly, but inside his fury was boiling over as he realized that these people weren’t just workers, they were slaves.

Things could not be left as they were now, and the changes that needed to be made rested squarely on his shoulders. A shiver ran up his spine as one thought entered his mind, The Princes had only been back for a day, a day that Thomas would have been in Asphodel. Had he already been subjected to the humiliation and torture that this poor woman and so many others had? His host had been one of the most kind-hearted individuals he had ever had the honor of meeting, always ready to stand up in someone else’s defense. Now, it was high time that Virgil repaid the favor.

Suddenly a harsh voice echoed through the otherwise peaceful landscape, “get back to work you hag!”

The woman who had warned him flinched, quickly going back to her work on the flowers, a moment later however, a different tone called from the main doors to the building, directed at him, “halt! No one is to see the Delegates of Asphodel without invitation, especially scum like you!” He glanced up at the two guards blocking his path, both of which were corrupted traits; one bore the red eyes which indicated Rage, the other had the pitch-black irises which betrayed Vengeance.

He had to admit that the sentries had been chosen well, the anger that the ones before him embodied would have deterred anyone with a fainter heart, but he was not one such individual. When it became necessary, the Eldest Prince could allow his heart to grow as cold as ice and hard as stone, making his own fears nonexistent. Wanting to test how far he could press the guards, he took another step towards the doors.

The two quickly pulled their swords, prompting the fight-or-flight reflex to do the same, and for a brief moment he wondered if he would have to fight them off, but he had a better idea.  Throwing his head back, his hood fell, and the sentries gasped as his clothes changed back to his normal attire. His uniform was restored, his crown reappeared on his head, and he let his wings spread to their full span, causing a sparkle of intimidation to appear in the eyes of the ones before him.

“As a Prince I have the right to go wherever I so please; however, if you wish to fight I will oblige. I implore you to reconsider though as I can promise,” he leveled his sword to them, “you would not be walking away unharmed.” They shared a glance and sheathed their swords; he followed suit, unwilling to be the cause of any unnecessary violence, and folded his wings neatly under his cape. “A wise decision; now, I do believe that the Asphodelian Delegates would be most displeased if _you_ were to deny them an audience with royalty.”

The vengeful warden stepped forward cautiously, but his voice was a low growl, “follow me, your highness.” The monarch walked with both confidence and determination, but he kept a close count on each turn they made in case he needed to make a quick escape. Eventually they reached a large set of double doors and the one leading him came to a halt, “it would be best I alerted the delegates of your arrival before you enter.”

The observant side glared at him with narrowed eyes, but chose to stay where he was, “go on then.” Returning the angered expression, the vindictive character stepped inside, and it was not a good sign when it took him less than a minute to return, eyes wide with fear. “You may go in now your majesty.”

“Thank you sir,” he gave no further acknowledgement to his escort before heading into the room himself.

Human souls filled the chamber, and even though their clothes didn’t bear the same dirt and grime as those he had seen outside, they were still clearly enslaved. Some stood guard; others darted about with platters of food or bottles of wine, waiting on the delegates. Everything came to a halt the moment he walked in however, a reminder that his clothes were a stark contrast to their own.

He turned as a hiss resonated from one of the thrones at the far end of the room, “may I just say how honored we are to have a Prince in our midst?”

The nine of those who sat above him must have been the Asphodelian Delegates seeing as they were dressed in so many colors and jewels that even Roman would find their outfits to be over-the-top. Judging by their eyes, each delegate was a different corrupted trait, but he brushed that aside, “I thank you for the warm welcome but it would behoove us all to skip the formalities. I come here with serious concerns, all of which need to be addressed promptly.”

The leading delegate had the yellow eyes of a dishonest aspect, and they glittered with a contemptment that he almost recognized. As he spoke, Virgil was thankful that he had learned to navigate the backwards language and tones used in lies. “As the Leading Delegate of Asphodel, it would be rude of me not to make the Prince who has blessed us with his presence feel comfortable in _our_ land.” Something about the senator was sending off countless alarms in his mind, “perhaps you would like some refreshment after your travels.”

At the words a few of the servants approached him, but he waved them away gently, “none will be necessary.” After a moment he realized that the other eight delegates were being oddly quiet, as if holding their tongues for some reason. Some of them even looked away as if their worried expressions had already conveyed too much, he would have to come back to that. “Getting straight to the point, I have come to inquire about The Fields of Asphodel and its inhabitants. It would appear that the treatment of the land and those who make their homes here is not up to par with the standards set in place by the Council of the Ethereal Planes. That is not to mention that both the Astral Plane and Elysium have received threats from Asphodel.” He held the gaze of the untrustworthy facet, “do you have anything to say for yourselves on these matters?”

“Of course my _good_ Prince,” the way he had said the words brought him to a chilling realization, though he did not let it show. The pieces were all beginning to fall into place; as it turned out, there was never any spy. There was no need for one when the leading delegate had been assigned with them. “Asphodel has had its share of issues, as have those who live here; and I should know, seeing as I have been here to oversee them during the absence of the Princes.”

Virgil actually allowed a small smile to grace his lips, “I must say, you were much more convincing when you were half snake… _Deceit_.” Suddenly his contempt turned to fury, but the monarch continued on, “let us drop the act. I have made it quite clear that I know you just as well as you know me.” He quickly turned to the other delegates, “I’m inclined to ask, are you all incapable of speaking?”

His eyes returned to the malicious figure who seemed to think the whole issue was a game, “oh you highness, it’s not like they’re being _ordered_ to remain silent.”

The fight-or-flight reflex suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, a habit he had picked up during his assignment, “I’ll say it again, you were more convincing as a snake.” He glanced over the other senators, “I’ll say this just in case any of you have forgotten. Any I order I make overrides that of a delegate; with that being said, I request that someone other than Deceit step forward.”

After a pause, an anguished trait defined by her dark-green eyes glittering with the sorrow that had sealed her fate stepped forward, “what would you like to know your highness?”

“Would you be so kind as to tell me about the happenings here in Asphodel, how the inhabitants are fairing, and what threats have been made to the other planes?”

She cast a worried look at the leading delegate before speaking, “Asphodel has been under _strong leadership_. The human souls now do most of the _work_ for us, and all threats made have been _justified_ your majesty.”

She clearly didn’t agree with the way the world was being run, but that didn’t stop the fury that ignited within him once more. “Allow me to clarify…the souls of the humans are being used as slaves so you all can live luxurious lives. You're also being ordered around by a dictator who doesn’t even allow you to speak freely in the presence of higher authority! All that being said, will someone please explain the specifics of the threats that you all have avoided talking about?!”

The next to step forward was a rage fueled aspect, and judging by the way he moved forward, he was Deceit’s Second-In-Command, “it’s not as if we as corrupted traits are being treated fairly.”

He looked over them his mind battling between anger and accord, “as a matter of fact I may have a solu-”

He was cut off by the untrustworthy facet, “Rage makes a good point your highness.”

Animosity took over his reaction, “and what right does that give you to make these people slaves?! You speak of unfair treatment and yet you are far guiltier of the crime than anyone else!”

The voice of one of the enslaved souls took him by surprise, “my afterlife here was fine until you all came to power and ruined everyth-” The bravery she’d held to make the statement faded away under the senators’ glares.

The Prince looked over the delegates, “before your own actions brought The Fields of Asphodel to its knees, you all were provided with the same living conditions and luxuries of those back in the Astral Plane. That being said, if you had any issues, as delegates you should have brought them before the Council of the Ethereal Planes to be discussed until all parties could come to a compromise. Now that those concerns have been dealt with, I will ask one more time…will someone explain the threats?!”

An apathetic trait with off-white irises gave him a deadpan expression, “messages have been sent to the Astral Plane and Elysium. The latter has only been sent one message, and that was last night, which said that we realize we are being treated unfairly, and if it isn’t brought to an end, then we’ll end it.”

A vengeful character moved forward, obviously in close alliance with Deceit as well, “and you can rest assured that if we need to, we _will_ get the treatment we deserve.”

Though he did not agree with their stance, Virgil knew he was going to have to pick his words carefully, “I will take your concerns back to the Astral Plane and we will convene with you soon to find a compromise. However, your issues do not involve the Elysium Delegates in any way, so I kindly request that no new messages be sent to them.” He looked around the room, “as much as I would like to leave with that, I am afraid I will also have to give you an ultimatum. The human souls who call Asphodel home are to be released to live their afterlives without fear of slavery or retribution; if they are to work, they are to be paid fairly. As I understand that these are not changes which can occur over night, I will give you time to get the restoration efforts underway and will come back to check on your progress in two weeks. If your issues are still persisting by that point, I will speak with you about them again, but I expect to see improvements by the time I return. Have I made myself quite clear?” Half of the senators nodded, while the other half shot him death glares; still, it was enough to know that they had heard him. Slowly he turned to face the leading delegate, “as one of the four Princes, I apologize for any misgivings that may have transpired between us in the past. You can rest assured that we will do our best to amend them, and we hope you will be able to help us do that in a civil manner.”

“Of course, your majesty,” he knew the compliance was a lie, but he would be no better than the one before him if he didn’t give them a chance to mend their actions.

He wondered if now was the best time to bring up his final concern, but so far the delegates had been rather compliant, and he couldn’t return to the Astral Plane without trying, so he cleared his throat. “On an unrelated note, I assume you know what happens to human souls when they are sent to The Fields of Asphodel, may I ask what that is?”

The apathetic senator glanced over to him once more, “they’re put to work upon arrival.”

The Eldest Prince nodded as he turned back to Deceit, “if that is the case, then in your… _possession_ is a soul who has been wrongly sent to Asphodel and is in need of relocation. I trust that the soul of Thomas Sanders will be passed over to my custody so I can take him to his rightful place without any further delay.”

Their gazes remained locked for a few moments before a few servants were waved out of the chamber, “he will be retrieved and handed over to you immediately.” The liar stepped down until he was nearly toe to toe with the fight-or-flight reflex, “we wouldn’t want any conflict here.”

“You know you really were more convincing and intimidating as a snake, I suggest making the change permanent…it suits you.” Even as he made the snide comment to see if he could get a rise out of his old enemy, he knew from his calm reaction that things were going much too smoothly. Something told him that they were far from the end of the issue they were facing, in a way it felt like this was merely the beginning.

Virgil actually struggled to keep calm and maintain his regal demeanor as Thomas was finally escorted into the room. Despite it only having been a day since they last saw one another, it honestly felt like centuries had passed. He now wore the same clothes that the servants did, but he appeared unharmed; his voice however was dejected yet hopeful. “Th-They tell me that you're a Prince, and that you're here to take me away from Asphodel…is that true?”

He had known that his former host wouldn’t recognize him, but that didn’t make it sting any less, “that is one of the reasons I am here, yes. As it turns out you were wrongly sent to Asphodel; your destiny lies elsewhere, and as the Prince of the Night, it is my task to see that you are relocated.” He looked back over to the delegates, “you have been aware of my demands, so my business here is finished. See that you comply with the orders I have given, and that they are well underway by the time of my return.” He gave them all a curt nod, “good day.”

He turned, ushering Thomas towards the exit before the delegates could have a chance to change their minds. He didn’t miss the soft hiss in his ear just before they walked out however, “don’t think that I am unaware of what is happening here your highness.” The taunt didn’t warrant a response and he began heading back through the winding corridors.

He remained silent until he was certain the two of them were alone, “I’m sure you have many questions, all of which I will answer soon, but for the time being we need to get out of this building. When we step outside I will have to disguise myself as it won't be safe for us to traverse Asphodel with me looking like a Prince.” He glanced over to his friend as he continued, “so, just stay calm when I flip my hood up.” Once they were outside, he did just that, once again taking on the appearance of an Asphodelian Soul, or a muted version of himself. Thomas remained quiet as they made their way through the gardens, but his eyes betrayed the awe and gratitude he actually felt.

Finally, with the Delegates’ Center far behind them the online personality seemed to muster the courage to speak, “you're a trait, aren’t you?” He simply nodded in response, “just like the ones I had, but you're a Prince…like an _actual_ Prince.”

He suppressed a laugh at the slight reference to Roman; the claim that he was a trait, _just like his_ was a surprisingly accurate description. Still, he didn’t want to reveal who he was just yet, both for their own safety, and because he felt everything would be better if they were all present when their identities were revealed. He wanted to be treated as an equal by the one he walked with, just as they had been before, but something told him it would take a while for Thomas to get over his awe.

“I am one of the Princes, but until we get out of here, I’m afraid I will have to keep my name a secret.”

He read his colleague’s movements and mannerisms as they walked, he was clearly curious, but there was an air of relief and worry about him as well. “Thank you for getting me out of there…but what about the others, surely you can't just leave them under that dictatorship.”

He could see Patton’s influence reflected in the statement, which warmed his heart a bit. “I don’t intend to, as delegates, the traits back there take their orders from myself and the other Princes. I have given them an ultimatum for correcting their actions, and in doing so, a chance to prove themselves benevolent leaders. If they refuse to comply however, there will be repercussions.”

The observant manifestation didn’t miss the brief look of concern he was given, “please don’t take this the wrong way, but if you and a handful of others are in charge of everything…how is that different from a dictatorship?”

He came to a halt, resting a reassuring hand on Thomas’s shoulder, “you will soon see that the other Princes and I have…varying viewpoints, which allows us to see things from different angles and think more about any decisions we make. Along with that, there is a group elected by our subjects called the Council of the Ethereal Planes; they help us make decisions while giving our people a voice in the government when there is an issue to be voted upon. The Council is sort of similar to the…what’s it called?” He paused to think for a moment, “the Electoral College in America; that’s it!” He cast his gaze back to the building they had just left, and the delegates we leave in charge of Elysium, Asphodel, and Tartarus are usually elected as well, but as you can see, we have been dealing with some issues pertaining to the Asphodelian Delegates- and I sound like a logical trait, don’t I?”

Thomas chuckled as the Eldest Prince pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “just a bit.” The brief explanation of their government seemed to have calmed his companion, and it became clear that he had an endless list of questions. “What are the other planes like? How many Princes are there? What trait are you if not logical? How was I sent to the wrong plane?”

He felt a bit overwhelmed by all the queries, “all of your questions will be answered soon enough; but for now, we need to get back to the Astral Plane, we’ll be safe there.”

Thomas nodded as they reached the inter-world gate, and with the same purple glow of magic, they were soon standing in the woods north of the palace. It was nearly midday, and the brilliant colors that shown in the light were almost too intense to look at after so long in the muted scheme of Asphodel. Knowing that they were safe, he let the hood of his _Shadow Veil_ fall, and his attire returned to its militaristic state once more.

He moved to face the online personality, but stopped in his tracks at the sight which stood before him. Thomas looked up, and Virgil saw his own awe reflected in his eyes as he ran his fingers through the metallic feathers of his wings. Their silvery nature led to each fringe casting a rainbow when they caught the light. Their span must have been at least thirty-five feet, and at a quick glance appeared to be built similarly to his own black and purple ones.

“Y-You didn’t tell me that I would get wings too…”

He spoke in a hushed tone, “to be quite honest, I didn’t know you were going to get them either.” He forced his shock aside and started down the path, “you’ll learn to fly soon enough, but I think it would be wise if you met the other Princes first.”

The other darted after him, still somewhat mesmerized by his shimmering wings, “how many Princes are there?”

“Four including myself,” he glanced over to the YouTuber with a small smirk, “we’re all brothers actually…and I think once you meet them, you're going to be surprised to find that I’m the eldest.”

“Why would I find that surprising, you seem capable of standing up for what you think is right, and if they are your brothers as you say, it must have taken a lot of courage to go to Asphodel without them.” Thomas gave him a thoughtful look, “something tells me you didn’t go alone without reason…one of the reasons was to keep them safe, wasn’t it?” He was absolutely dumbfounded by the deduction, but chose not to respond for fear that he would give too much away. He was spared speaking as his friend continued, suddenly sounding downtrodden, “you know, you remind me a lot of the youngest trait who was assigned to me.” He sighed deeply, “Virgil was his name,” guilt shimmered in his eyes, “I misjudged him at first, but I just hope I was able to make amends with him. I’ll miss him and the others as well, we all grew pretty close over the course of my life…I’ll probably never see them again though.”

The words clawed at him like ice; he had no idea that Thomas still felt guilty for the way he had reacted when Virgil had first started appearing in videos. He wanted more than anything to reveal who he was then and there, promising his friend that he held no resentment, but he restrained himself, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Never say never; life in the Astral Plane is full of surprises…you might just see them again someday.” After that they continued on in silence until they reached the gates of the palace courtyard where his guards were keeping watch. They saluted him as the two approached, but behind their eyes was a glimmer of confusion; still, he greeted them as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Good day, could you please let Commander Hawk know that I have returned, and see that my brothers meet with me in the conference room?”

“Yes Sir!”

The swiftly reached for their communicators to hail those requested as the two entered the grounds, “thank you.”

“Why didn’t they refer to you as a Prince?” He didn’t need to look over, the befuddlement was clear enough in Thomas’s voice.

The fight-or-flight reflex accepted that the walk would be filled with questions, and he had promised answers once they were in the Astral Plane, so he complied. “Along with being a Prince, I am in charge of the militaristic forces and the Royal Guard. I know that last one is a bit of an oxymoron, but I get bored out of my mind if I don’t have patrols to demand my attention.”

“If you’re in charge of the military, what do your brothers do?”

He smiled lightly at the query, “the youngest works in communications and political relations, the second-eldest formulates the laws that are to be voted upon, and works with the voting strategies and economics as well. The second-youngest is sort of our spokesperson, he delivers speeches to our subjects, but more importantly, he controls the day…I mean that he literally raises the sun with his powers.”

“I’m guessing that you work with the moon and stars as you referred to yourself as the _Prince of the Night_ back in Asphodel.” He nodded, but Thomas didn’t seem capable of pulling his eyes from the décor as they entered the palace, “why does this place look so familiar?”

He glanced around the open air corridors with the vine like nature of the railings, and the branches which made up the pillars and roof. The whole place looked like it had just grown from the trees which supported everything as opposed to having anything to do with intelligent design. “My brothers and I have a particular fondness for _Lord of the Rings_ by _J.R.R. Tolkien_ , so the whole palace is modeled after _Lothlόrien_. It’s the home of the _Nandorien Elves_ in the books, but is more commonly recognized from the film scenes with _Galadriel_.”

“That’s amazing,” Thomas finally tore his eyes away from his surroundings and looked up at him. “You guys must have had some pretty amazing architects.”

“We didn’t have to,” he wondered how he was going to explain such a complex principle about their world. “The landscapes of the four planes can shift and morph, in the case of the Astral Plane, it can do so at the will of those living here.” He fidgeted with his sleeve as he walked, “it’s sort of like my cape, which is actually stitched with a material that allows it to react similarly; that’s what you saw when I took on the appearance of an Asphodelian Soul earlier.” He let his gaze sweep around the hall, “when we come up with a better idea, the palace will change again. I personally hope it stays this way for a while, it’s much more welcoming than the stones of the fairytale type design we had before. Still, I think the others have been considering remodeling it to look like _Hogwarts_.”

They weren’t far from the arranged meeting place now, but there seemed to be no end to his questions, his thirst for knowledge was a trait he’d gotten from Logan. “Is the Astral Plane or the palace similar to the _Tardis_ from _Doctor Who_?”

The Eldest Prince smiled to himself, “in a way, I guess it is. It can chance appearance, but it’s not bigger on the inside…then again I suppose it could be, but I think my brothers and I all agree that the palace is large enough already.” They stopped before a set of double doors, and he could just barely make out the voices of the remaining monarchs on the other side, betraying their arrival. It was only in that moment that Virgil realized he hadn’t thought this far, the others were going to greet Thomas like they knew him, the only problem was, he didn’t know them, or he _thought_ he didn’t. In a last ditch attempt to hold up the façade, he turned back to his former host, “just a warning, my brothers can be a bit…excitable.”

He really couldn’t think of a better descriptor in the moment, so he just shook his head, pushed the doors open, and together they walked inside. Their presence was met with the joyous outbursts he had expected, but it was clear that they were just as stunned as he had been by Thomas’s silvery wings. Despite his warning, the one in question looked a bit overwhelmed by the reactions, but he knew that wouldn’t last long.

The online personality glanced at the others, “so you're all Princes?”

Roman, who was closest, leaned over whispering to his negative counterpart, “why doesn’t he know who we are?”

He cast a quick glance at the other two before matching his soft tone, “I wanted him to realize who we were with all of us present.”

The whimsical side lit up at the idea of being able to see Thomas’s reaction, “that’s considera-”

He didn’t have time to finish his response before the YouTuber piped up again, clearly unaware of their side conversation. “I’m guessing from the colors of your eyes that you are moral, creative, logical, and fight-or-flight traits respectively.” They each nodded, but he continued before they could respond, “you all are Princes; who brought me to _your_ place…and I don’t even know your names.”

The two brothers in the know gave the others reassuring glances before militaristic aspect moved forward, “I think the reasoning for why we brought you here will become apparent soon, but for now, allow me to give some introductions.” It was all he could do to keep a knowing grin from his lips as he gestured to Morality, who skipped forward with glee, “this is Prince Patton, the youngest of us.” The visionary facet swiftly took his place next to his joyful sibling, “Prince Roman, the second-youngest,” Logic moved forth confidently, “the second-eldest, Prince Logan.” He himself moved to stand next to his brothers, “and as you know, I’m the eldest…Prince Virgil.” He finally allowed himself the smile he’d been suppressing, “I told you that you would see us again.”

Their former host finally managed to speak through the hands he held over his mouth in shock, “i-is it really you guys?”

The ethical character bounced up onto his toes, “of course it’s us kiddo!”

There it was; that last word, a habit he had picked up during their assignment was the key to changing the glimmer of disbelief in Thomas’s eyes to elation. Even though he still appeared too stunned to speak, Virgil addressed a topic that the others knew nothing about. “Oh, and there’s something else you should know. I hold nothing against you…never did if I’m being honest; your reaction to me when I first appeared was justified, and you made up for it later.”

“I-I thought I would never see any of you again…”

Shame and guilt washed over him, even thought it had only been a day; the four of them had been grieving, but they had forgotten that Thomas not only was unaware of the prophecy, and he had been forced to grieve alone. Pushing the feelings aside, he made sure his voice was laced with humor, “you're not getting rid of us that easily.”

Thomas actually hugged him, and for a moment, Virgil remained stiff, caught off guard by the reaction. After a moment however he was able to shake off his shock and gently return the embrace. When they pulled away from one another the online personality had to look up at him, “apparently not too easily, I died and you guys are still here!” As the others broke into giggles he looked back over to the observant side, “I’m glad to know you don’t hold anything against me Virge.” He merely gave a reassuring smile as the others pulled themselves together, and Thomas chuckled, “I know I’m being slow on the pick up here, but you guys are Princes…like actual monarchs?”

Roman nodded, “yes, but I was the only one who kept my title while we were assigned to you.”

“We didn’t have our titles rebuked, we just chose not to use them.”

The Eldest Prince rolled his eyes, glancing over to Thomas who was trying to hold back laughter at the intellectual’s misinterpretation, “Logan, buddy…that’s what he meant.”

The one in question straightened his glasses at the remark, “well I couldn’t be certain that Thomas knew that, now could I?”

The YouTuber smiled at each of them in turn, “I can't believe you all are actual Princes.” Suddenly his expression turned to a good-humored interest as his eyes rested on the worrisome trait, “you know, I never thought I’d see the day when _you_ would be wearing a crown.”

His head went to his head, quickly removing the ornate piece of jewelry, and clipping it to his belt, “I don’t normally wear it. Today I had to appear _regal_ when speaking with the delegates, so I needed to wear it.”

Thomas laughed, “now that’s more like the Virgil I know.” He stopped briefly, confusion lacing his features, “hold on…should I be using your proper titles?”

“No!” He jumped back as the four of them gave their rather emphatic answer.

The Prince of the Night cleared his throat, “sorry about that, but no. You are family to us, so it would just be weird to have you referring to us as Princes.”

The other three gave small forms of agreement, but it was the imaginative trait who moved forward, “no offence, but your outfit is positively dreadful. We simply must find you something more appropriate, and quite frankly more fashionable to wear!” He glanced over to his oldest sibling, “and finding a new crown for you wouldn’t hurt either.”

He rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t willing to start an argument, especially when Thomas seemed pleased with the idea of an outfit change, so he followed them with Patton and Logan close on their heels. Something told him their former host wasn’t ready for the full extent of the wardrobe, if it could even be called that. It actually looked more like a mall than anything else with separate floors dedicated to each of the monarchs, each being filled with clothes that they had worn once, maybe twice. They all kept their usual attire in more accessible locations, so the outfits in the wardrobe were comparatively formal, set aside from the events they had attended with their subjects. Specifically for times when they needed to appear ceremonial and elegant as opposed to regal and commanding. Since most of the outfits had only been worn once, many of them despite being in pristine condition were terribly dated by the fashions and trends going on in the world of the living at the time.

All of that meant that there were rows upon rows of capes, tunics, and shoes of different hues on each floor. The racks could hold anything from sashes to jackets, or cardigans to ties, and often times they would turn a corner with no idea as to what they would be faced with next. There were also cases filled with crowns and other jewelry, Virgil even had a few dedicated to old military pins which no longer fit on his uniform after thousands of years of service.

He was drawn from his thoughts as they reached the doors to the wardrobe, and as it was opened, Thomas walked in with wide eyes, “how do you guys find anything in here?”

Logic took a quick scope of the area, “most of us don’t; the outfits we wear on a regular basis are stored in our rooms. Roman is probably the only one with the slightest clue as to where anything is in here.”

The one in question smiled brightly, grabbing Thomas’s wrist, “I think I have the perfect outfit; this way!”

While the pair searched for new clothes, the other three wandered off in different directions, leaving the darker aspect to try and take in his surroundings. He glanced over a few cases of gems and jewelry trying to complete the one task that had been asked of him when he found something which confused him for a moment. It was a small case which was covered in dust, but inside were four glittering tiaras, nothing meant for a Prince, and that’s when he remembered what they were.

Originally, the four of them were supposed to marry, to take on a bride not long after each of their coronations. He chuckled softly at the memories, not long after he had risen to power; he had made sure that that had been the first thing to go. He was under the impression that if he or any of his brothers were to marry, it would be on their own time. It would also be because they had fallen in love, not due some ridiculous law; which meant that there would probably never be any _Princesses_ , so the case would continue to collect dust.

Continuing on, he found a case filled with different crowns, if he was going to pick out a new one, it would probably be behind the glass before him. Lifting the cover he peered at the diadems, there were so many he could hardly tell which gems belonged to which metals. Most were far too ornate and elaborate for him so he dismissed them instantly, moving down the line. Eventually one caught his eye, it was a simple silver band that took the form of a diamond in the middle, it had intricate patterns carved in it, and a deep purple sapphire in the center. Removing the gold crown laden with rubies from his belt, he switched it with the much more modest silver headpiece.

Closing the case, Logan appeared from behind one of the nearby racks, so Virgil put the crown on, “what do you think?”

The analyst glanced at the band, “it certainly suits you better, so hopefully Roman will stop pestering you about your crown now.”

“I doubt it,” he removed the accessory once more, “I hardly wear it, and he’s always enjoyed getting onto me about that.”

Logic shook his head, “you're probably right; anyway, I need to make sure Patton doesn’t get completely lost, so I’ll see you back in the corridor.”

He dipped his head to his brother before he started off in the direction he had come from, leaving him to find his own way back. He was continuing down the aisle of cases when the sound of voices drew his attention; turning around, he could see Roman and Thomas approaching. Even he who didn’t have much interest in fashion had to admit that their former host had cleaned up well. He wore a light grey tunic and black slacks, and the whole outfit was adorned with accents of dark-green and silver. A green sash and belt were complimented nicely by their metallic fastens, and his cape bore a natural pattern of the same hues, so all that seemed to be missing now was a crown. He had a feeling he knew of one which would match well, and glanced over the cases. He found it, a silver band, more ornate than his own, laden with emeralds and topaz.

Virgil was drawn from his thoughts as Thomas spoke up, “do you have the same…tattoo as Roman and I?”

For a moment he was confused by the question until he realized what their friend was referring to, “oh you mean the symbolic mark.” He pulled at the collar of his own uniform to reveal the brilliant colors he had noticed the night before, “yes, I have it too, and so do Logan and Patton.”

The online personality gazed at him in confusion, “what do you mean by _symbolic mark_?”

“Normally the delegates of the planes explain that upon a human’s passage to their afterlife if they don’t go to Elysium…something else Asphodel is neglecting to do.” He shook off his growing irritation, “that doesn’t matter now; I’ll do my best to explain.” He thought through the intricacies of gaining a symbolic mark, “normally the only time a human soul stays with their traits during their afterlife is if they all go to Elysium. Since that is so rare however, those who don’t enter Elysium are also granted a symbolic mark. A human soul is given the mark as a reminder of their life and what was most important to them; traits however are granted the mark their return to the Astral Plane as a way to remember the one they have lost. A human soul receives the mark in the same location as the traits who bear it, which is determined by how much the host meant to them.” He straightened his collar once more, “the closer the mark is to the heart, the more the more the host meant to them.”

For a moment, he didn’t understand the way Thomas looked between the two brothers with tears in his eyes, until he spoke in a hushed whisper, “j-just below the left collarbone…”

It was in that moment that the Eldest Prince remembered having the same revelation the night before when he had first caught sight of his own mark, and it appeared that his sibling was recalling a similar event. The two of them locked eyes for a moment until the whimsical attribute turned back to their companion, “of course it is…don’t you know how much you mean to all of us?”

The darker manifestation waited until Thomas’s gaze shifted back to him, “you helped the others learn to accept me even when-” He paused for a moment as he thought back to a dark point in his life, “to accept me even before we knew we were brothers.”

 The YouTube appeared speechless, so while his attention was away he looked to the Second-Youngest Prince to change the subject. After a few moments his chipper voice rose into the air, “anyways, what do you think of Thomas’s new outfit?”

 

He glanced over their friend’s new wardrobe before turning back to one of the cases he had passed. Searching for a moment, he found what he was looking for, a silver band, more ornate than his own, laden with emeralds and topaz. Retrieving the silver headpiece, he looked back to the others, “tell me if I’m wrong Roman, but I think that this might just pull the whole outfit together.”

The younger of the two took it gently with a small laugh, “so you can pick out the perfect crown for Thomas, but not yourself?”

Sighing he placed the silver band on his head haphazardly, “happy now?”

The creative attribute smirked at him before handing the diadem off to Thomas, “I would be if you would actually wear it. Honestly, why do you protest so?”

He held his brother’s gaze, “because, I work as part of the Royal Guard, so wearing a crown is like holding a neon sign saying, _‘I’m one of the people you're after!’_ ”

“Virgil…you have a forty foot wing span, I doubt anyone is looking at the crown.”

“Do you think I wear capes because they’re _aesthetic_? No, I actually hate them, always tripping me up as I walk, but they cover my wings, so I deal with them. I…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Thomas, who was just gazing silently at his new headpiece. Glancing over, he shared a concerned glance with the one he had been at odds with only a moment before.

“Hey…you okay?” His head shot up as the usually whimsical Prince walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The fight-or-flight reflex watched as their former host stole a glimpse at each of them before returning his eyes to the crown, “I-I just have so many questions.”

Putting their previous disagreement aside the monarchs shared another concerned look, but it was the older of the two who spoke, “well…what do you want to know?”

Thomas looked between them, his voice soft with worry, “h-how often do you find your lives in danger?” He held Virgil’s gaze, “don’t get me wrong, but couldn’t things have gone wrong in Asphodel earlier? You were outnumbered hundreds to one.”

The statement had caught Roman’s attention, and he stared at his brother both with concern and expectance. Taking a deep breath he began, “yes things could have gone wrong today, but not much that I wouldn’t have expected…as a matter of fact things went too smoothly, but that’s not the point. As for how often we find ourselves in danger, well you were right in what you said earlier, I tend to get myself into more dangerous situations than my brothers, and even those are fairly rare. When they do arise however, since I am in command of the militaristic forces, I am trained in both diplomacy and combat, making me well equipped to handle most circumstances. Still, the four planes usually live in peace, but as I said earlier, we have been working to sort out a few issues with the Asphodelian Delegates…which thankfully didn’t worsen too much during our absence.”

His brother picked up where he left off, “though I may not always see eye-to-eye with Virgil, there is no doubt in my mind that his loyal and well trained officers are equipped to keep us and our subjects safe.” He was stunned by the kind words to the point that he could only bow his head respectfully, before he continued. “Another thing that might help to ease your mind is the fact that traits are immortal…we can be slain in a sense, but we always come back.”

He did appear somewhat consoled by their words, but his eyes still shimmered with confusion, and the question which followed was one he hadn’t expected so soon, “so why do I need a crown?”

The fanciful side opened his mouth to speak, but his gloomier counterpart cut him off, “that will be explained soon enough, but I don’t think we should continue this discussion without the others. There are many questions we probably can't answer without them, so why don’t we talk over lunch?” Their former host knew him well enough to know he was withholding something, but he didn’t say anything. Nodding in agreement, the Second-Youngest Prince lead them back through the winding aisles to find the others.

Once the five of them found their way out of the wardrobe, they started for the dining hall, but as they walked the darkest trait couldn’t help but notice the way their friend continued to stare uncomfortably at the crown he’d been given. Slowing his pace to match Thomas’s stride, he spoke to where the others couldn’t hear, “if you don’t feel comfortable wearing it, you could always clip it to your belt like I do. I seriously doubt Roman will give you a hard time about it…you haven’t had a lifetime to get used to wearing it like I have.”

He gave a grateful nod, taking the advice as they stepped into the dining hall, where they hardly had the time to take their seats before waiters came rushing in as they had the night before. This time however, there was no idle chit-chat; they all ate in silence until the observant aspect could bear it no longer. “Thomas, you had quite a few questions earlier…if you want answers, now would be the best time to ask.”

The online personality gazed around at each of them before allowing his voice to rise into the air, “well you guys have answered a lot already, but I am curious…why me?”

Logan wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin before responding, “could you expand on what you mean by _‘why me?’_ ”

Thomas moved his food around with a fork, but made no attempt to actually eat it, “what I mean is why am _I_ here, surely you’ve had other…what do you call humans?”

Logic straightened his glasses, “hosts.”

“Okay, well surely you’ve had other hosts, so of all the people sent to Asphodel…why was _I_ chosen to come back to the Astral Plane with all of you? What makes me so different?”

Slowly each of the other Princes turned to face their eldest sibling, he understood why they expected him to answer, but if he was being honest, he didn’t really know anymore than they did. “I’ll begin with this…the topic you want us to address is a difficult one to discuss, so I’ll explain to the best of my ability.” He took a deep breath, “first of all, you are the only person to have ever lived that has had all four Princes assigned to you, so that is the first difference. The reason for that difference is the same reason as to why I highly doubt the Asphodelian Delegates are going to comply with the demands I gave them.” He paused looking around at the confused glances his brothers gave him, “I’ll get back to what happened in Asphodel in a minute, for now however; Thomas, you need to know that there is a prophecy…and you are as much a part of it as the four of us are.”

“Prophecy?” Their former host finally looked up from his plate, “what kind of prophecy?”

Now it was the teacher’s turn in the spotlight as he pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket, and began reading off the thousands year old prediction. Upon reaching the end, a hush fell over the room, but Virgil was more concerned with the conflicting emotions reflected in Thomas’s eyes. He had expected his colleague to be shocked by the words, but he was unnerved by the sheer horror in his gaze.

After nearly a minute of total silence, the online personality finally seemed to find his voice, “I-I can't be a king! I-I don’t know the first thing about leading a world, let alone four of them! I don’t know anything about leadership, or voting, or military, or-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Thomas’s gaze shot over to the fight-or-flight reflex, “first of all, we would all still be keeping our positions, so you wouldn’t need to worry about any of that. Next, have you forgotten all the times that you helped family, friends, or even the four of us through an unfortunate situation by taking charge?”

An answer wasn’t given as it was clear their friend was trying to ground himself, but his breathing continued to quicken, and then his hands began to shake. Wordlessly, Virgil got up from his seat and made his way around the table, placing what appeared to just be a reassuring hand on his companion’s shoulder. It was more than that though, with just a little magic, he was able to drain some of the adrenaline from Thomas’s system, and the effect it had was almost immediate. He looked up at the worrisome facet, the cloud of fear in his eyes dissipating, “h-how did you do that?”

He waited until he was back in his seat to respond, “we’re all still parts of your personality…meaning that I still have the ability to stop you from panicking.”

The online personality blinked at him a few times before returning to the topic at hand, “thank you…but panicking or not, I-I was a leader among a few people…not a nation, and especially not worlds!”

“I am not certain that your fans would concur with that claim, they were considered one of the nicest groups of people because they followed _your_ actions.” It shocked him, not that the observation had been made, but it had been the intellectual who had pointed it out.

“That was different…I was just a role model that they _chose_ to look up to!” He looked down once more, “what traits do I have that would qualify me to be a king, let alone a good one?”

They all gave him confused glances, but it was the negative character who spoke, “you do realize that you are talking to the literal traits of your personality, who are already leaders with the exact qualities you are referring to, right?” He didn’t give his friend a chance to answer the rhetorical question, “if it helps at all…I was once in your position, and I remember it well.”

“Y-You were…but you seem so sure of yourself.”

He chuckled lightly, “I might now, but I’ve had thousands of years to become acquainted with my position, and learn how to rule our worlds, but I wasn’t always this way. Since I’m the eldest, that means I was the first to be coronated, which meant I had to rule the four planes by myself for a time.” He paused for a moment, realizing what he was about to admit, “honestly…I have never been more relieved than I was the day of Logan’s coronation. Back to the point, at first, I didn’t think that I would be a benevolent leader, but I learned as I went, and you have a significant advantage that I didn’t.”

Thomas appeared sheepish, “what advantage?”

“You aren’t alone, you’ll have us to help you every step of the way.” He stopped, waiting for his former host to look up at him, “and I promise that we will stand by your side to help guide you…as you once did for us.”

The online personality had tears in his eyes as he looked away once more, “I-I’m sorry, but I just can't be a king…”

Virgil could tell that the others were clueless as to how they were supposed to handle the situation, but he knew from experience that their companion was going to have to accept his role in his own time. “All of this has to be overwhelming, and we shouldn’t be springing all of this on you when you're already dealing with such a massive change, so I apologize.” Thomas dared to look up at him, “we should just be enjoying each other’s company for the time being.”

“I agree, and as much as I hate to bring it up…there is another topic that needs to be addressed before we can do that.” He gave Roman a quizzical look and he spoke up hesitantly, “you promised to tell us about your trip to The Fields of Asphodel.”

Before he could respond, Patton joined in, “did you figure out who the spy was?”

He shook his head slowly, “no…because I was wrong, there was never any spy; there didn’t need to be.”

Logic put down the glass of water he had been sipping at, “I am not sure I follow, what do you mean there didn’t need to be a spy?”

He sighed as he realized just how hard this revelation was going to be on Thomas, since their issues were between two parts of himself. “There was never any need for a spy because; as it turns out the leading Asphodelian Delegate is Deceit.”

As he had expected it wasn’t any of his stunned brothers who spoke, it was their former host, “hold on, the trait who has ruined Asphodel, is a part of…my personality?”

“I’m afraid so, but that does explain why the unrest between our worlds didn’t worsen in out absence.”

Morality looked horrified, “how did he manage to become the leading Asphodelian Delegate?”

When he shrugged in defeat, Thomas drew their attention, “I might actually be able to answer that one. I may not have been in Asphodel long, but while I was there, one of the resident souls told me that they had been in the position for quite some time…and that they had assumed it by force.”

The analyst quickly nodded, “that would explain why they have forgotten how to communicate with the Council of the Ethereal Planes.”

He quickly picked up where his brother had left off, “and why Asphodel has been turned into a place comparable to Tartarus.”

The creative persona looked worried, “you and Thomas are the only ones who have been to Asphodel personally…so could you please explain a little further?”

Their host shrank in his seat, and once again the darker side wondered what he had been subjected to in the twenty four hours before his liberation. “When I first got to Asphodel, the first thing I noticed was that there was next to no color, as if it had all been drained from the world. It quickly became clear that the forests and communities had burned down, the crops were almost withered to dust, and even the river had all but run dry. Then I noticed the lack of people, as I walked through the main meadows, I only saw the souls of children, and a few teenagers…it wasn’t until I got to the Delegates’ Center that all the pieces began to fit together to reveal a horrifying picture.” His brothers were hanging onto his every word, but he had to pause for a moment at the memories. “It turned out that the lack of resources in the rest of the plane came from the fact that nearly all of them were being used to make the Delegates’ Center even more luxurious than our palace. The senators had taken everything from Asphodel, including the human souls who are being…being used as slaves; fearing both verbal and physical repercussions with no pay.”

“Th-That’s horrific! We have to do something!”

He could tell that his siblings were ready to jump out of their seats and take the fight to Asphodel then and there, but he did his best to diffuse the situation, “we can't do anything just yet.”

Roman glared across the table at him, “we can't justify slavery!”

“No we can't, but we also can't justify unnecessary warfare,” he held his brother’s angered gaze. “My sovereign duties may belong with the militaristic forces, but that includes preventing war whenever I can. I have given the delegates an ultimatum for changing their actions, and even if we don’t believe that they will comply, we would be no better than their dictatorship if we didn’t at least give them a chance!” The others stared at him with varying levels of shock; it was not often that their government was compared to a dictatorship as they tried to run their worlds with democracy. “I told the delegates that I would return in two weeks to check on the progress of my demands; until that time, we stay put unless we hear of any new developments.” He could tell the others wanted to protest, so he spoke once more, adapting the authoritarian tone that he normally only used in the presence of his troops, “my decision is final.” Glancing over to Thomas, he could tell their friend was growing increasingly nervous at the topic of fighting, so he decided to change the subject, “we’ve talked enough about war.” He turned to smile at the online personality, “I did promise that you would learn to fly after you met the other Princes, so how about we go down to the courtyard, and we can begin your lessons?”

Judging by the glances he received from the other monarchs, they understood that even though he had turned down his position as King, Virgil was going to begin training him anyway. The one in question turned to look at him quizzically, “hold on…I thought you said you hated flying.”

“In a metal contraption that I have no control over, yeah I hate flying; when I have control,” he ruffled his wings beneath his _Shadow Veil_ , “it’s actually a lot of fun.”

Thomas glanced at his own wings, “fair enough, and I mean no offence by this…but are you sure that _you_ have the patience to teach me to fly?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the visionary side beat him to it, “he taught all of us…so if Virge had enough patience to work with me, you’ll be fine.”

Both of the other Princes nodded in agreement as he shared a good humored look with the one who had spoken. The truth was, he couldn’t remember how many screaming matches the two of them had gotten into when his second-youngest sibling was learning the basics of aviation. Something must have gotten through to him though, because he could indeed fly, but he would be better if he didn’t insist on keeping his feathers pruned and fluffed all the time. Now that he thought about it; that had normally been the point of their contingencies.

Sharing a final knowing grin, the observant trait turned back to Thomas, “so are you willing to let me be your instructor for your introductory flight?”

“Well, you clearly have the most experience; so, why not?” Even though he sounded nonchalant, the Eldest Prince didn’t miss the glimmer of relief in his colleague’s eyes at the rapid change in topic.

Giving slight gestures as farewells, the duo headed for the courtyard while the other monarchs decided to go work on the speech for the fast approaching presentation to their subjects announcing their return. He didn’t worry too much about missing the meeting as he often didn’t contribute much to the speeches, and he wouldn’t be the one delivering it either. Swiftly he put the thoughts aside, knowing that Thomas was going to need his full attention if he was ever going to get his feet off the ground, so he made a point to push the thoughts of war far from his mind.

Reaching the same courtyard where he had taught all three of his brothers the intricacies of flight, his companion turned to face him, “so…how does this work?”

“Before you can take to the sky, there are a few things we need to go over; basic stuff like, what type of flight best suits your wings, simple maneuvers, easy mistakes, and of course…how to land.” He took his _Shadow Veil_ from around his shoulders, gently folding it before setting the fabric on a nearby bench, and his friend did the same with his own cape. He could feel the breeze ruffle the black and purple feathers of his wings as he stretched them. “To start off, we need to figure out what wing build you have so extend your wings like this, and-” He was forced to jump backwards as Thomas did as he had been told, but with an unexpected amount of power for someone who had never flown before. “That’s good…your surprisingly strong for someone who has never used his wings seeing as you almost close-lined me.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no worries, it’s just a reminder that even I need to remain alert, especially when flying.” He waited until Thomas met his gaze to continue, “anyway, with that amount of power and the build of your wings, you would make a good agility and stunt flyer, like me.”

“S-Stunt flying…are you sure about that?”

The militaristic aspect smiled, “it’s going to be a while before you're ready to start doing any tricks, but knowing where your strengths are will help you to learn, and will tell me the best way to teach you.” He gave his own wings a small flap, “with that out of the way, let’s start with the basics.”

As he had been in life, the online personality was a quick learner, and had basic take-off, hovering and landing maneuvers down within the hour. He was actually enjoying his time as an instructor, but the lesson was brought to an abrupt halt when Commander Hawk walked out onto the courtyard below them. “Captain, I need to speak with you promptly.”

Quickly helping his former host back to the ground, he folded his wings and approached his Second-In-Command, “what do you need?”

She shot a sharp glare at Thomas, but before he could reprimand her, she spoke up, “the other Commanders and I need to speak with you urgently.”

Her reactions were beginning to become a bit unnerving; she only got sharp with people when she was worried, and that was uncommon to say the least. Trying to find a solution, he turned back to the online personality, “I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to cut this lesson short…do you remember how to get to the conference room?”

He appeared unsure, “I think so.”

“Okay, Logan’s office is two doors down from the conference room on the right. If you get lost, just ask one of the castle staff for directions, they will be more than happy to help.” He glanced at the open air corridors above them, “if Logan asks where I am, just tell him that I’m in the North Wing, he’ll know what that means.” He looked back at Thomas, “I’m sorry again that I have to cut the lesson short, but I’ll see you at dinner.”

The YouTuber gave him a small smile, “no worries, you have a job to do, so you’d better not keep you Commanders waiting, I’ll see you at dinner.” Nodding to the both of them, he started back towards the conference room.

As soon as he was sure that Thomas was out of earshot, he turned his attention to Sytha, “what exactly is going on?”

“I’ll explain once we meet with the others,” she paused, looking after his friend sternly, “who was that?” Her eyes grew wide, as if she were coming to a sudden realization, “and why did he have wings like a… _Prince_?”

“He was my former host…and if I’m right, with the correct training, he is going to end up being far more than just a Prince.” He took his _Shadow Veil_ and threw it around his shoulders before he began making his way towards the North Wing, “for now however, we need to meet with the other Commanders.”

“At attention!” The sharp voice of his Second-In-Command brought the others to their feet, “the Captain is present!”

Virgil nodded to the group before him gesturing for them to sit once more, “at ease.” He waited until he had taken his seat at the head of the table to address them again, “what is all of this about?”

They glanced around at one another until a creative trait dared to speak up, “pardon my indirect approach to the question, but did things go south during your mission to The Fields of Asphodel this morning?”

He gave the officer a bewildered glance, “no, as a matter of fact, I believe things may have played out too smoothly.” He held the other’s gaze, “what new information has been obtained since my return, Mister Harran?”

A hush fell over the room until he was certain that Commander Hawk would be the only one with the courage to face him directly, and give him the answer he was seeking. Once again, the look of apprehension in her eyes struck him, but he forced himself to shake it off as she squared her shoulders. The words she spoke however left him momentarily speechless, “the leading delegates of The Fields of Asphodel have…declared war on the Astral Plane, Sir.”

He felt his stomach drop; he couldn’t say that the news surprised him, but he hadn’t expected such a development so soon. He knew well that Deceit would try to exact his revenge on the Eldest Prince for his past, and that he still blamed the other monarchs for the mere fact that they had been assigned as main traits. His expectations of his adversary needing more time to plan were dashed however, and now it was up to him to decide how they were going to handle such a declaration. They’d had no time to convince Thomas to take his place as King, nor the time to train him for said role.

Suddenly he realized that everything rushing through his mind was a scheme concocted by the devious aspect. He had said, _‘don’t think that I am unaware of what is happening here your highness.’_ At the time, the fight-or-flight reflex had assumed he was bluffing, or trying to intimidate him in some way, but now he saw the words for what they really were. It had been a warning, and one so blatantly placed at his feet that he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself for overlooking it so readily.

“Sir?” He was drawn from his racing thoughts by the voice of one of his Commanders, but he hadn’t looked up in time to see which one.

He quickly regained his professionalism, realizing that his brooding would have to become a thing of the past. “My apologies; but with a matter as serious as this, my hands are tied until the other Princes can be called for a briefing. Unless a direct attack is made against the Astral Plane, we cannot take the fight to Asphodel without their concurrence.” He paused, remembering the look of worry in Thomas’s eyes at the mere prospect of war, making him hesitant to bring the topic up again so soon. “As we currently have a guest in the palace, the briefing will have to wait until later tonight,” he turned to face Commander Hawk. “How serious is this threat at the moment?”

“The details were unclear Sir.” She turned on one of the holographic screens, swiping through it deftly, “an attack could be made at any time…in two weeks, two hours, we simply have no way of knowing at this moment.”

He had to force his attention to remain on the topic at hand, “in that case, I want double security on the inter-world gates at all times, and one of those men needs to be a Commander, the same goes for the palace guards. I am leaving that responsibility with you Commander Hawk, at least until the briefing with my brothers.” He let his gaze sweep around the room, “if there are any new developments, I am to be alerted immediately. Once we have all the Princes in agreement, we will make a strike against the Asphodelian Delegates before they have a chance to get to us first.”

Sytha shot him a concerned glance, “pardon the direct questioning of your orders Sir, but should we not wait for our enemies to make the first move? If we don’t, it could appear to the populous as if the attack is unprovoked.”

“Normally I would agree with you Commander…but I know the leading delegate all too well, and we do not want to give him any chance to gain leverage over us.” He turned for the door, “I will return with my brothers as soon as possible, but until that time, you all have your orders. Understood?”

“Yes Sir!”

“In that case you are all dismissed,” without another word, he began making his way to the dining hall, where his siblings and Thomas would surely be waiting for him.

Unable to shake the notion that the knowledge of the impending war would only discouraged his former host further from taking his position as King; he knew he would have to be strategic in bringing up the topic. He would have to wait until their friend went to bed, but his kin still needed some form of a warning of what was to come, but he someone else would have to deliver it to keep Thomas from becoming suspicious.

Waiting, he passed one of the castle staff; a woman who bowed deeply before him, “is there anything I can do for you, your highness?”

“As a matter of fact there is. Would you be so kind as to take a message to my brothers?” She nodded emphatically, clearly willing to do anything for his approval, “please let them know that it is imperative that I speak with them once our guest has gone to bed.”

“I will let them know right away your majesty!” She scurried off so quickly to do as he had asked that he barely had time to call out a few words of thanks to her.

Roman had long since set the sun, and he himself raised them moon when Thomas finally decided to retire for the night. By that point, the other Princes were becoming increasingly nervous proving that they had received his message. Throughout dinner and the following evening, he hadn’t missed the concerned glances they had given him subtly when they were sure their former host wasn’t looking. Still, he had refrained from saying a word until he was certain that Thomas had gone to bed, and the others’ distress only seemed to grow when they realized that Virgil wasn’t going to go on his nightly rounds.

The moment the four of them reached the conference room, a place where even caste staff were prohibited from entering without explicit permission, the visionary facet rounded on him, “are you trying to kill us with suspense?!”

He had gone over what he was going to say to them in his head again and again, but he still found it difficult to find the right words to address the topic. “I was called into an emergency meeting with my Commanders earlier, and I was right…things went too smoothly in Asphodel yesterday.”

Logan straightened his tie, “why did that merit an _emergency meeting_ as you put it?”

The darker character swallowed hard, “when I spoke with my Commanders, I received some shocking news. They told me that as of this afternoon, the Asphodelian Delegates have…have officially declared war on the Astral Plane.” His brothers gazed at him in stunned silence, horror filling their eyes, “and I can't move my troops into position until you all attend a briefing to discuss the options first.”

“Wh-When is the briefing?” He had to commend Patton for his bravery; he had never even seen a real war, considering that the last one with Tartarus had happened long before he was born.

The militaristic leader glanced in the direction of the North Wing, “as soon as possible, my Commanders are awaiting further orders from the four of us.”

Logic nodded, if he felt any emotions based on the newest change of events, he hid them well, “then let us not stay them any longer. The sooner we are briefed, the sooner we can make a decision and find a solution to this situation.” Small forms of agreement passed between them before they headed for the arranged meeting place.

They were nearly halfway there when Morality sped up to match the stride of his eldest brother, speaking to where only he could hear. “Virge…I don’t want to add more to your plate right now, but what about the prophecy?” He dared not let his own fear show at the reminder of what he had already considered so deeply, “Thomas has refused his position as King. That’s not to mention that he isn’t much of a fighter to being with, and we will be at odds with a part of his own personality…how can we be certain that he will even be able to choose a side in this war?”

The worrisome side took in a deep breath, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt, “I know Thomas isn’t one for fighting, and we haven’t had the time to give him the proper training for him to take his position as King. Still, when it comes down to the wire, I know he will fight for us.”

“How can you be sure?”

He felt some of his determination return, “because when all is said and done, he gets his sense of right and wrong from you…so if you deem this war to be justified, then he will too.”

The Youngest Prince blinked at him in surprise, “how can you have so much faith in me…I’ve seen about as much fighting as Thomas has.”

He kept his eyes on the path ahead of him, “I’ve always had faith in you, and I can't foresee that changing. You would keep fighting until your last breath for the sake of your family…and it looks like that might be what we have to do to.” He paused for a moment, “as for the prophecy, don’t worry too much about it. I’ve found that destiny sometimes has a mysterious way of showing itself.”

He could tell that his sibling wanted to say more, but he remained silent as they entered the North Wing. Opening the door, one of his Commanders called out, but he couldn’t discern which one, “all rise for the Princes!”

The other three looked as uncomfortable with his officers’ salutes as he was with the bowing they often received, so he let his own voice rise into the air, “at ease.” He gestured for his brothers to take the seats left empty by the Commanders who were out on the increased patrols. “We all know why we are here, so I’m just going to cut to the chase; we need to make a decision, do we-” Virgil came to an abrupt halt as a soft sound echoed from the corridor, and judging by the way his officers reached for their weapons, they had heard it too. “Stand down…I think I know what’s going on here.”

He started for the exit, but Commander Hawk intervened, “forgive me for questioning your orders, but if the Princes are the target of this threat, perhaps you should not be the one investigating.”

“I do not believe this intrusion to be one of malice; besides, I am perfectly capable of handling myself.” He turned on his heel, and the moment he was through the threshold, he placed a finger over the perpetrator’s lips and guided him away from the room. He didn’t, nor did he allow the other to speak until he was certain that they were alone. “Do you understand how close you were to being killed just then?! That room is filled with battle-ready Commanders who don’t take kindly to unexpected intrusions!”

The way Thomas held his steely gaze shocked him, “it was a calculated risk! You all are part of _my_ personality; don’t you think I can tell when you all are hiding something from me?” There was a brief moment of silence before he continued, “I know there is a lot going on right now, and that I’m new here, but whatever is going on clearly has something to do with me! Do you think that I don’t have the right to know what’s going on, or what I could potentially be getting myself into?!”

The Eldest Prince shook his head, “that was not the message I was trying to convey; I for one was under the impression that you’d had enough of a shock for one day.”

His former host’s gaze turned to a glare, “you said it yourself; this is as much my destiny as it is all of yours!”

Finally he snapped, his voice reminiscent of what he considered to be a dark period in his life, “fine, do you want to be in a real war?!” His friend lost a bit of his confidence but it was too little too late, “it’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies. Nothing can prepare you for the atrocities you will see on the battlefield, and it looks like that is what we are going to be facing!” He took a deep breath, lowering his tone, “so I will ask again, do you want to be in a real war?”

The online personality finally looked away, “not really-”

“Then this is not a meeting that you need to attend.”

He turned on his heel, ready to head back to the room he had come from when a force on his shoulder made him turn back, “Virgil! I may not know what it’s like to be in a real war, and I may not _want_ to…but do you really think I could just stand by and watch you all possibly get killed without lifting a finger to help?!” Thomas took a step back, his expression conveying both hurt and anger, “how little do you think of me?”

The negative side stared at him in disbelief, trying desperately to regain his bearings, “I have never thought little of you.” He shook his head, “we had every intention on telling you what was going on. We just assumed that after such a long and eventful day that you needed rest more than the knowledge that our worlds are going to war…especially after how you reacted at lunch.”

Thomas lifted his head, his anger being replaced with determination, “I’m sorry for snapping, I know you respect me as much as I respect you, and that you all were trying to look out for me. Still, when it comes to the topic of the war…can I make the decision for myself as to whether or not I join the fight?”

He sighed, “you really want to take part in this war, don’t you?” The YouTuber merely nodded once, “okay, in that case, do you want me to give you a rundown of what we will be discussing?”

“Isn’t that the whole point of the meeting?”

The fight-or-flight reflex glanced back down the hall, “yes, but some of my Commanders can be a bit…blunt about matters that most would find touchy.”

Thomas took a step back in the direction they had come from, “well, if the four of you can handle it, then I think I will be all right.”

He started back for the room too, “then let’s not waste anymore time…and another thing, let me introduce you before you come in so that my officers don’t try to kill you.”

The pair walked in silence until they reached the door, and as requested, his former host waited outside as the Commander In Chief moved to address his troops. “Sorry for the delay, but it appears that we are going to have someone else join us for this debriefing.” His friend stepped into the room, and he could see the confusion written in nearly everyone’s expressions. “This is Thomas; my brothers and I believe that he will have a rather large role to play in the upcoming battle. That being said, it is time we got down to business.” He glanced at the people gathered in the room, “we have already doubled the guards on the inter-world gates and the palace…but that won't be enough to protect the other planes. Here’s what I propose, since our man power cannot spread thin enough to provide adequate defense for all the other planes…we need to make an attack on the Asphodelian Delegates as soon as possible.”

“Attack?!” He didn’t miss the look of concern in Roman’s eyes, “are you suggesting that _we_ make the first move?”

He could see that many of his own men shared the same sentiment, “yes I am.”

“How?!” The Prince of the Day looked as if he had just received a physical blow to the chest, “if we attack first, our own subjects might believe that we are going to war with Asphodel unprovoked! We can't risk having the people believe that we are allowing our government to become a dictatorship, no matter how misguided that belief may be!”

“I understand your concerns, but the people are aware of the threat that Asphodel poses as we were already attempting to deal with the problem diplomatically before we were assigned.” He paused, to insure that his voice remained calm and professional, “and even if they weren’t aware of the dangers…we know Deceit. Do you really want to give him the upper hand by allowing him more time to plan _his_ attack? You know as well as I do just how detrimental that could be to our subjects; traits or souls.”

Silence filled the air for a moment before Patton bravely raised his voice, “I have to say that I’m with Virgil on this one.” He didn’t shy away from the stunned looks he received, “I may not be a fighter; but the truth is, we _need_ to be a society that holds to the morals which have allowed the four planes to live in peace for millennia. Clearly the Asphodelian Delegates have lost sight of these morals; and so far diplomacy hasn’t worked. That added to what both Thomas and Virgil have told us, it has become clear that the ones paying the price for the delegates’ actions are the souls who reside in Asphodel. If we don’t do something to liberate those people…we are no better than they are.”

Logan turned to face his emotional counterpart, “while it is true that we need to liberate the souls in The Fields of Asphodel, are you certain that an outright attack is the most effective way the handle the situation?”

The Youngest Prince sighed, “again I have to agree with what Virgil said…we know all too well what Deceit is capable of. Something tells me that his aggression towards us during our assignment wasn’t just limited to his not being assigned as a main trait.” He paused briefly, and when he spoke again, his voice held a calm certainty, “he knew who we were- who we _really_ were. I don’t think he targeted us so maliciously just because he didn’t like us; he knew we were Princes and he wanted to try and break us while we were assigned to make us weaker upon our return to the Astral Plane. I fear that this is a war we have been fighting for nearly a century…even if we didn’t realize it.”

The militaristic aspect nodded in agreement, “Deceit has had nearly a century to figure out our strengths and weaknesses…we don’t need to give him any more time to figure out how to exploit those.”

“Both you and Patton make a solid argument; still, we cannot assume that our subjects know as much about Deceit as we do, they may still see the attack as an unnecessary act of violence.”

For a moment, he didn’t know how to address Logic’s concerns, but he spoke before he thought, “not only were we struggling with the Asphodelian Delegates before our assignment, but we have a prophecy to fulfill as well.”

The intellectual furrowed his brow, “how does the prophecy pertain to the matter of our subjects understanding the necessity of this war?”

He recalled the old legend, “well there isn’t any one in any of the four planes who doesn’t know at least parts of the prophecy, and the first four lines clearly dictate our course of action.” He took a deep breath before reciting them,

_‘In a time with fear of war,_

_The assignment of all four,_

_Princes to a single host,_

_Hope would seem but a mere ghost.’_

 

As he rattled off the words, he watched everyone’s eyes grow with shock until Commander Harran finally summoned the courage to speak despite his breathless tone. “Th-That’s’ just a bedtime story…hell, I’ve told it to my son countless times.”

The Eldest Prince though it best not to give away his ability of foresight, so he kept his statement vague, “we were under the same impression, but some…recent intel has proved otherwise.”

“Going solely by that logic…that means there should be a King.”

Though she had not said the words, Commander Hawk’s eyes quickly snapped to Thomas, “that would explain why Captain Virgil returned with a visitor after his trip to Asphodel.” She took a shaky breath, “pardon my forwardness, but your eyes don’t appear to match the color of any trait, corrupted or otherwise…what trait do you possess?”

He looked to the monarchs, who all motioned for him to answer the question, “I…well, I’m not a trait.” He seemed self-conscious under the Commander’s gazes, “I was human…the Princes were, as you all put it, assigned to me.”

Before an onslaught of questions could be asked, the darker character spoke once more, “what Thomas says is true, but that is a topic we will discuss at a later date. Right now we need to decide on a course of action.” He turned to his brothers, “we need to reach a verdict; do we attack first?” He expanded his perception to his Commanders as well, “all those in favor, please raise your hand.” One by one, everyone’s hand went up, including all four Princes and Thomas, “okay, then it’s time we started planning the attack.” Everyone looked to him expectantly, “first things first, don’t underestimate our opponent, the leading Asphodelian Delegate is far from stupid. He has had years to find the weaknesses of my brothers and I, and we can be certain that he will attempt to use those to his advantage.”

Logan drew his attention, “then how do we combat that?”

Virgil gave a small smile, “we’ve already begun.”

Roman gave him an odd glance, “how so?”

“Simple...for obvious reasons, we have never trusted him, so many of the issues he will see as our weaknesses were only the ones which arose while we were assigned. Other than that, he has very little knowledge of who we are as individuals, but in the same breath we have had the chance to learn about him.” He took a deep breath, “we know he’s arrogant and prideful, and when it comes down to it, something tells me that out of a sheer need for revenge, he will want to kill the four of us personally.” He pulled up one of the holographic screens and began drawing, “this is the Delegates’ Center, and this is the main inter-world gate. In the event that Deceit tries to target us, it would be best if we weren't all in the same location, so it will be more difficult for him to take us out. That being said, we should have four main troops, each will contain one of the Princes, and since the souls are being held captive in the Delegates’ Center, we should take the battle to what used to be the meadows to do our best to keep the civilians safe.”

Commander Hawk looked over to him, “should we not mobilize _five_ troops to keep Thomas separated as well?”

“No; odds are, Deceit is aware that the prophecy is true, so we have to assume that he will not want to kill Thomas, but try to sway him to join his cause. That would be giving him the one person who has power over all of the Princes…which wouldn’t be our best move.” He glanced over to his former host, “you will be in my troop since I will be the best equipped to keep you safe. Also, in the event of my injury or death, you could use my _Shadow Veil_ to pass unnoticed into another troop.”

“Your shape-shifting cape?”

“Yes, you could take on the appearance of an Asphodelian Soul, or another soldier to avoid being targeted.” He turned back to his attack plan, “Deceit has eight other main delegates who rule by his side, as well as the enslaved souls who would more than likely fear his retribution more than the war itself.” He turned his attention to his Second-In-Command, “you will be leading a fifth smaller troop to act as a decoy. You will draw the opposing army into the meadow where two of the other four troops will be waiting. Once we are certain the fight has begun, the other two troops will move from their hidden positions behind the Delegates’ Center to encircle the opposing forces. How soon can you have all five groups mobilized?”

She stood taller, “I can have your men ready by dusk tomorrow Sir!”

He allowed his gaze to scan the room, “then that is when we will strike. Each of you is to prepare your Command Units for the upcoming battle; my brothers, Thomas, and I will join you here just before dusk, understood?”

“Yes Sir!”

He nodded curtly, “then let’s get to work, dismissed!”

Despite having quite a bit to do themselves, the Princes and Thomas stayed put as the Commanders hurried off to begin their preparations. Once they were all gone, the five left in the room didn’t seem to know where to begin with their own tasks. Should they work on the declaration to their subjects, train Thomas for battle, bolster the Astral Plane’s defenses…no one seemed to know.

He was torn from his thoughts as Patton tapped him lightly on the shoulder, speaking to where only he could hear, “you know, I think that we all expected to find some level of comfort in returning to our lives…” He paused for a moment to check that no one else was listening, “but our assignment has changed us, all of us.” This time he followed Morality’s gaze, and what he saw shocked him as much as the sudden declaration of war. Despite the nature of each trait’s being, Logan appeared bewildered, Roman came off as fearful, but worst of all was Thomas who stood against one wall, tears dripping through the hands he held to his face. His youngest brother once again subtly drew his attention, “maybe we would all be able to calm down and work better if we handled our issues… _differently_.”

The ethical side had never steered him wrong before, so the fight-or-flight reflex matched his reserved whisper, “then what do you suggest?”

He was given a knowing smile, “just follow my lead.” He spoke one more time before turning away, but his words left the elder of the two baffled, “I think that there are too many… _Princes_ in the room.”

Watching on, his sibling swiftly but silently made his way across the room, when he turned to face the worrisome trait again, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. It took a moment for him to pinpoint the exact cause of the reaction, but as he did, his feeling of familiarity turned to a calm understanding. Now the paternal aspect stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, which had blinds drawn tightly across them.

He had been right; they were going about their issues all wrong; it was as if they had forgotten everything they had learned. Trying to handle their problems alone wasn’t going to work for them anymore, they needed to work together. He had also been correct about why that hadn’t occurred to any of the others; the truth was, there only needed to be one _Prince_ in the room.

Nodding in understanding, the observant facet moved to stand by one side of the table; taking a deep breath, he stopped holding himself like a monarch. It wasn’t until he let his shoulders slouch forwards as he crossed his arms that he realized how much his back hurt from the sudden change in posture he’d been forced to adapt since their return. Logic quickly took notice of the change, shooting him a questioning look. He simply cast his gaze over to Patton, who gave them both a bright smile, causing the confusion in the eyes of the intellectual to dissipate.

Not making a sound, he moved to stand before the door as if to guard it, but he quickly straightened his glasses, a sign that he was well aware of their plan. It took a few moments of intense staring from the other three before _Princey_ noticed the change. Still, it was another agonizing thirty seconds before he seemed to realize why they were glaring at him. Looking a bit embarrassed, he silently took his place on the other side of the table in the space between his eldest and youngest siblings.

They all gazed at Thomas, but it was clear from the way he held his head in his hands, covering his face, that he was still too overwhelmed to see what was going on around him. Virgil had to admit that he felt partially responsible for the reaction, as he had agreed to let his friend join the briefing, but at the same time he had chosen to attend. No matter the case, there was no taking back the past, so they just needed to move forward with the best of their abilities.

He was trying to think of a subtle way to get their companion’s attention, when he realized that there was something off about their alignment. It was more than just not having their former host standing before them, or the fact that they were dressed differently, something was wrong with the darkest character. As luck would have it, the solutions to both of their problems were one in the same. Hooking his foot around the leg of a nearby chair, he pulled it closer and took a seat; he never stood during a debate.

The sound was enough to make the online personality look up, but they were far from getting him to see what they were trying to accomplish. He wanted to walk over and take some of the fear from his former host as he had earlier that day, but he couldn’t keep doing that forever, Thomas had to deal with his emotions eventually. Still, it was hard to watch the way his hands trembled at his sides, or the way he jerked his head around to look at all of them as if he were trying to give himself whiplash.

All they could do was wait until their colleague finally rested his panicked yet quizzical gaze on him; he still hadn’t figured it out, so he spoke with a disgruntled sigh as he would have in the past. “Maybe this will help,” in one quick motion, he threw the hood of his _Shadow Veil_ over his head, and pulled at a memory from his mind. Instantly his uniform was transformed; now he wore stressed, black jeans, an acid-washed purple shirt, but most importantly, a black jacket patterned with purple plaid patches. Even though the YouTuber’s eyes grew wide with shock, it still wasn’t enough, “okay…pretend that the chair I’m sitting on is a flight of stairs. Does that help?”

Wordlessly, Thomas moved to the center of the room, completing the circle, which prompted the teacher to speak. “Though our location may vary, the concept does remain the same.”

“I-I know we have worked a lot of things out this way, but…but war is something entirely different.”

The other three exchanged concerned glances before the fight-or-flight reflex had a chance to speak. “Yes, we are facing a war, but no matter the situation, this is the best way to handle the issue. It’s enough like a conference meeting to discuss tactics, while also being familiar enough to work through the personal problems that the war has brought on all five of us.” He looked around at the group, “and right now we need to work on the latter, or none of us will be able to focus on the prior.”

Thomas took in a shaky breath, “I-I guess you’re right…a debate is a good idea Virgil.”

He lifted an eyebrow, “I have to ask…do you like giving me credit because I’m the eldest?”

Their former host appeared startled by the question, “no…I-I guess it’s because everyone keeps looking to you for answers.”

“That doesn’t mean I know everything. People keep looking to me because it just so happens that I’m a militaristic leader during a major crisis.” He chuckled, “the reason I ask is because you’re giving credit to the wrong person, the debate was Patton’s idea.” He smiled at his brother, “I may be observant, but even I couldn’t see the solution that was literally standing right in front of me.”

Thomas turned to look at the one in question, who spoke with a bittersweet smile, “the four of us assumed that we would find some comfort in returning to the solidarity of our lives here, but we forgot a few things; the first being that you’re here with us now. Second, our being assigned to you has taught us new skills for working through our issues…the main one being that we no longer have to struggle with them alone.”

Their former host blinked at Morality in surprise, “how did you know that we needed to do this?”

There was a hint of laughter behind his tone, “that’s a trait you get from Virgil.” The pair of them barely had a chance to share a confused glance before he continued, “it’s no shock that Virgil is the observant one, but he has never been able to get it through his head that I can read people’s emotions the same way he can read dangerous situations.”

“He’s right,” now all eyes were on the eldest of the brothers, “I didn’t know what he was doing until he moved to stand in front of the windows…it just goes to show how well Patton knows me. He knew that he wouldn’t need to outright tell me what he was planning for me to catch on, all I needed to do was _observe_ the situation…”

The youngest of the siblings picked up where he left off, “I was only able to come up with the idea because I could see the toll our situation was taking on everyone.” He shook his head, “enough about that, we need to get to work on our problems so we can all play our parts.”

Thomas nodded slowly, “well, if we are doing this like a _Sanders Sides_ video, then I guess I’ll start.” He turned to face the one dressed in black and purple, “I told you that I wanted to help in this war…but I don’t have the first clue about what I’m getting myself into.”

Virgil took a moment to ponder his concerns before trying to find the right words, “I know that we don’t have a lot of time, but there is really only one way to prepare you for the battle ahead. We need to assess your capabilities and then give you as much training as we can fit into one day.”

Logan was the next to draw the group’s attention, “usually I would be the one in charge of assessments, but I need to write the speech for Roman to deliver to our subjects.”

The one in question appeared thoughtful, “how long does it normally take you to write up a speech like that?”

Logic had a distant look in his eyes as if he were seeing invisible calculations in the air before him, “considering that you usually help to embellish what I write initially, the whole process takes around three hours.”

“That will never do,” the creative side shook his head, “how long would it take if I were to do the embellishments without you?”

“It normally takes me a little under an hour to finish the speeches I bring to you.”

“Okay, that’s more doable,” Princey glanced around at all of them, “write the speech first thing tomorrow and give it to me. Then you can assess Thomas; that will give me time to finish the speech and address our subjects. While all of that is going on, Virgil would have time to check in with his troops before working with Patton on a way to read Deceit’s actions during the battle.”

Almost everyone nodded in agreement with the plan, but the ethical trait spoke with a nervous tone, “how would reading Deceit’s actions help us?”

The eldest of the siblings turn to face him, “we all know Deceit pretty well, but there still may be a few things that he has hidden from us. Any information you could find about him during the battle to be our key to winning-” He stopped abruptly as a thought struck at him like a physical blow, “I knew I was right to have faith in you!”

Everyone gazed at him in shock, but none more than his youngest sibling, “wh-what did I do?”

“You might have just given us the leverage we need to defeat Deceit, and you didn’t even know you were doing it!”

The intellectual straightened his glasses as he spoke, “would you mind explaining your sudden epiphany to the rest of us?”

The observant aspect smiled at each of them, “something tells me that if Deceit knew we were the Princes during our assignment, he would be expecting us to fall back into our old ways as soon as we returned. He will expect us to go back to working through things alone as we used to, a belief which has only been enforced by my solitary visit to Asphodel yesterday. However, that isn’t the case anymore, because Patton has just single handedly proved through helping us partake in this debate that we are always stronger together. This meeting has reminded us of the skills that we all learned during our assignment.” His words were met with questioning glances, “don’t you see? Any time Deceit showed up, we always managed to best him by working together!”

As his statement drew to a close, the others’ eyes grew wide in understanding, but after a few moments, the imaginative facet drew their attention. “If we are all feeling better, and we are on board with the plan, we should try and get some rest to ready ourselves for tomorrow.”

Small forms of agreement were passed around before they began heading out of the North Wing’s conference room. Once in the courtyard, Virgil took to the skies briefly to ensure that all was well in their kingdom for the time being. Once he had finished his quick round, he headed back to his room to prepare for bed. Despite the fact that he didn’t usually sleep, Roman was right, they all needed to get some rest, so he at least needed to try.

He must have managed to fall asleep at some point, because he opened his eyes only to have them assaulted by the light which filtered in through his window as his alarm went off. Groggily he turned off the noise, rubbing sleep from his eyes and got up to get dressed for breakfast, even though the worry over what the day held kept him from being very hungry. The truth was that they all had a long day ahead of them, but they still needed to keep their strength up, so eating was a necessity, and he was going to do his best to enjoy what could very well be one of the last meals they had together for some time.

Taking his _Shadow Veil_ from its hook by the door, he threw it around his shoulders before heading out into the corridor. On his way to the dining hall, he couldn’t help but notice how normal the day would seem from the eyes of anyone but those in the government. The sun was shining over the Astral Plane without a cloud in the sky, and he could only assume that their subjects were going about their usual daily tasks, unaware of what threatened them. Of course the people’s safety was just one of the many responsibilities he had to attend to as a ruler.

He forced himself to shake off the pessimistic thoughts as he reached the doors which would lead him into the dining hall. No matter what he thought or how he felt, he had to appear calm and in control; the fate of their worlds depended on that. Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his shoulders back before stepping inside to greet the others gathered inside. He wasn’t at all surprised to see that there were only two at the table seeing as Roman was perpetually late, and Thomas didn’t really know his way around the palace yet.

Still, he greeted Logan and Patton, “morning.”

The prior waited until he had taken his seat and a sip of coffee before he spoke, “I would ask if you slept well, but I know that despite the implications it could have for your health, you don’t sleep often.”

He chuckled, “well to answer your rhetorical question, I actually did manage to get some restful sleep last night.”

“You can’t sleep on most nights, but when there’s a looming war, you manage to get some rest?” The three at the table whipped around at Roman’s voice, “I will never understand you.”

He shot his brother a playful glare, “I guess my body knew it would need to be at peak efficiency today.” He glanced over to the door, “has anyone seen Thomas this morning?”

The others had only just began to shake their heads when another tone joined the conversation, “I-I’m here.”

Logic furrowed his brow, “I’m going to guess that from your breathlessness, you got lost and had to rush here.”

Their former host took his seat, “I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to find my way around this place.”

“It’s only been one day kiddo.”

Morality barely had time to finish his statement before the staff came in with their breakfast. They quickly began to eat, making sure they had the strength they needed for the day ahead; despite that however, there was still idle chit-chat. It didn’t annoy him as much as it had the day before, since it seemed that everyone was simply trying to enjoy the meal, so Virgil did his best to join in. Even with war looming on the horizon, it appeared that Thomas was beginning to at least understand his new regal life, even if he was still uncomfortable with the idea of being a monarch. That was not to mention that the Princes themselves were already adjusting to being back in the Astral Plane with their old responsibilities.

They were nearly done with their breakfast when Thomas let his voice rise into the quiet, “so…what am I supposed to do until my assessment?”

The fight-or-flight reflex was the one to respond to the query, “maybe Patton and Roman would be willing to give you a better tour of the palace while Logan works on the speech, and I go to check on my troops.” The two in question nodded happily, and their former host seemed placated by the idea. The activity would work for all parties, it would guarantee peace and quiet for the academic, and promise him confidentiality when he went to speak with Commander Hawk, while also helping Thomas to learn his way around.

Having finished their meal, they all headed in different directions to fulfill the first tasks that they all had in their schedules. Once he was in the North Wing, he could see his men rushing around to get everything ready, and the one giving each order was his Second-In-Command, who even with all the stress seemed completely calm and in control. He thought back to how she had assumed the position; she had only been a low ranking Lieutenant in the war with Tartarus, but even then she had shown great potential, so he had made a point to watch her progress with interest. Over the millennia, she had allowed her actions to speak for her, and risen in rank again and again until she had made herself indispensable to the Astral Plane’s armed forces as his First-Officer.

Shaking away the memories, he stepped forward, speaking with her briefly, and just as he had grown to expect from her, she had everything running according to plan. She assured him that all of the troops would be ready to lay siege on Asphodel at dusk. He wanted to remain and help, but he had other obligations, so once he had the knowledge he needed, he left her to continue her work without any further interruption, certain that she wouldn’t let him down.

After his meeting with Commander Hawk, he made his way to the conference room to speak with the Youngest Prince. Their discussion was going well and they had come up with multiple ideas of how to discover and exploit Deceit’s weaknesses during the battle which could aid their cause greatly when a knock echoed through the air. Seeing as the conference room was one of the few places in which the castle staff members were not permitted to enter without explicit permission, they knew the one seeking entry could only be one of three people.

The two already inside shared a concerned glance before the elder of the two piped up, “come in.”

A moment later, Logan stepped through the door, “my apologies for the intrusion, but I could use your consultation Virgil.”

“Has something gone wrong with the assessment?”

The newcomer straightened his tie, “not wrong per say, just…different.”

After a moment, Morality jabbed him with his elbow, speaking softly, “see the way he’s fidgeting with his tie; he’s confused, and so he needs the consult.”

Virgil got to his feet, “I hope this doesn’t take too long, Patton and I still have a lot to work on.”

The Second-Eldest Prince turned back to the corridor, “Then I will try to make this as quick as I can.”

When the two of them got to the courtyard, he could see just how nervous Thomas was, so he turned back to his sibling, “what kind of consult do you need?”

Logic looked over to their former host, “can you cast the levitation spell I taught you?”

As the one question closed his eyes to concentrate on the incantation, the darker side spoke to where only his brother could hear, “what do you need me for…I can’t cast logic based spells.”

“Just watch,” they let their eyes return to Thomas, and a moment later a stone at his feet rose into the air. It was impressive that their friend had picked up on the spell so quickly, but he still didn’t understand the need for the consultation. He was about to speak, but the intellectual beat him to it, “look at Thomas’s wings…I don’t know what to make of this development.”

He let his eyes fall on Thomas’s silvery feathers, and for a second, he didn’t see anything different, but then he remembered what had been so stunning about them to begin with. When in direct sunlight like they were now, the metallic feathers would reflect a rainbow off of each fringe, but now they didn’t do that. Instead the silver had become a sleek grey, but the most notable aspect was that the tips of his wings had taken on a dark-blue tint, the same color given off by logic based spells.

Virgil took a step forward, “Thomas?”

The sound of his voice broke his concentration, causing the stone he had been controlling to fall to the ground with a dull thud. A moment later the blue coloration left his wings, and they began shimmering in the sunlight once more. Thoughts rushed through his head at a rapid pace, normally a trait could only cast spells based on the phase of life they were in. Meaning that a moral trait couldn’t cast logic based spells any better than a creative trait could cast fight-or-flight magic, and so on. What they had failed to consider however, was the simple fact that that Thomas didn’t fall into any one category. As a human, he was a multifaceted individual, which meant that in theory he should be able to cast each type of magic.

Now he understood the need for a consult, the teacher wanted to know if Thomas was capable of such a feat, but he couldn’t teach him anything other than logic based magic. Focusing on the task at hand, he spoke again, “I’m sure Logan has explained every fundamental of magic that there is.” His friend merely nodded, “in that case, I’m going to teach you another spell.”

He looked confused, “is this part of my assessment?”

“In a way,” he moved to Thomas’s side, “I’m going to show you how to conjure a shield spell, something that could prove useful in the battle tonight.” The negative persona crossed his hands into a plus sign, “you need to concentrate on making a field of magic in front of you…” He himself paused to concentrate, and after a moment a layer of purple magic appeared in front of him, “like this.”

Thomas nodded, and Virgil let his own spell dissipate; moving back to stand with his brother, who watched on with curious eyes. The two of them stood there for so long that he was beginning if the spell had been too complex to start with, or if he could cast fight-or-flight magic at all. Just as the thought entered his mind, a shield appeared in front of their colleague, and by the looks of it, it was a strong one.

The siblings shared a stunned glance, but it was the factual aspect who found his voice first; still, it was hardly more than a breathless whisper, “his wings…” Following his brother’s gaze, he could see that Thomas’s wings had gone grey once more, but rather than having a dark-blue tint at the tips, they reflected a deep-purple hue. “Th-The color is based on the type of magic used, dark blue for logic based magic…”

The gloomier facet picked up where he left off, “and purple for fight-or-flight magic.”

Logan swiftly took a book and pen from his satchel, and began scribbling furiously, “someone having more than one form of magic is impossible. Any trait with that much magic inside their mind should render them clinically insane, even a Prince.”

Shaking off the shock, the militaristic side moved back to where his former host was standing, who jumped back nearly six feet when his concentration was broken by a gentle hand being placed on his shoulder, “that was impressive.”

Thomas gave him a bewildered glance, “i-it was?”

“Yes, and for more than one reason,” he looked over to the stone which had been floating in the only a few moments prior. “Not only did you conjure a surprisingly powerful shield spell…but you managed levitation as well.”

“How is that impressive? I’m sure you’ve been doing those spells for years.”

“Shield spells, yes,” he shook his head lightly, “but I can’t conjure levitation spells.”

His friend appeared even more confused than before, “you can’t...why not?”

“It’s hard to explain, but as traits we can only wield one type of magic, and that is based solely off of what trait we embody.” He took a deep breath, “meaning that it would be impossible for me to cast a levitation spell, because it is logic based magic.” They glanced over to his brother, who was still scribbling endlessly, “equally Logan can’t cast any other form of magic, which is why he asked me for a consult. He wondered if you could use more than one form of magic, but he needed someone else to teach you to prove his theory.”

The online personality met his gaze, “so…his theory was correct, I can wield more than one form of magic?”

“Yes you can; the shield spell I just taught you is fight-or-flight based magic…or as it’s more frequently referred to as, defensive magic.” He turned back to the intellectual who was still focused on his writings, “hey Specks, stop writing and come over here for a second.”

The one in question gave his notebook one last forlorn glance before joining them, “sorry about that, but I enjoy documenting new discoveries.”

Virgil and Thomas shared a good-humored look, but it was the prior who spoke, “we know you do, and you’ll be able to go back to that in a moment, I just need to ask you a quick question.” The two of them gazed at Eldest Prince, waiting for him to continue, “seeing as the reason for this assessment was to help Thomas prepare for the upcoming battle…are either of you against me taking the training process from here?”

“You said fight-or-flight magic is normally called _defensive magic_ ,” the two brothers quickly looked over to their former host, “that does sound like it could be useful in the upcoming battle.”

The teacher nodded in agreement, “I quite agree, though I have often disagreed with calling it _defensive magic_ since it can be used defensively or offensively. No matter my personal opinion, both aspects of fight-or-flight magic could prove move useful to you tonight than logic based magic, which is why I specifically called on Virgil for the consult.”

He dipped his head respectfully to his younger sibling, “it’s good to see that we are all on the same page.” He turned to face Thomas, “so I will continue your training for the time being.”

The analyst appeared thoughtful, “if Thomas can use multiple forms of magic, perhaps I could ask Patton to come down and help you at some point, his healing spells could also prove to be beneficial.”

He cast his gaze over to his sibling, “good idea, could you have Patton come down here a little before noon?”

Logic straightened his glasses, “I will be sure to inform him.” He gave a few swift farewells before heading off to document his new discoveries with the request to speak with the Youngest Prince.

Once they were alone, Thomas drew his attention, “so moral based magic is healing magic?”

“Among other things, yes it is.” He paused for a moment, running through the plethora of defensive and offensive spells he knew. “The best offence is defense; so, let’s try the shield spell again. You need to become more familiar with it, so you can cast it more readily during the battle.”

They quickly got to work, and once again he was reminded of how fast Thomas could pick up on new things no matter how foreign they may appear at first glance. He had mastered shield, full-body protection, and deflection spells; and was ready to move on to offensive magic when Morality walked onto the courtyard. “You’re almost as good as Virgil!”

Their former host looked a bit sheepish, “I’m not sure about that-”

“I am,” he whipped around to face the fight-or-flight reflex, “it took me a week to even start casting those spells. Then it took me years to get to the level that you have achieved in one morning.”

The father figure took on the tone of a concerned parent, “if you’ve done all that…do you want to take a break before I start teaching you healing spells.”

Thomas vehemently shook his head, “we don’t have much time, and I want to learn as much as I can before the battle.”

“If you’re sure kiddo?”

As the online personality nodded, Virgil came up with a compromise that would keep Thomas’s strength up, and would give his brother a chance to concentrate on the lesson. “While you two work on the healing spells, I’ll go get the three of us some lunch, and we can all take a break when I get back.” It was clear from the looks the others gave him that they were happy with the idea, so he made his goodbyes and headed for the kitchens.

Once there, the castle chefs were more than happy to make their meals, and he made a point to give them even more compliments than they gave the other staff members. The reason was a simple one, the Princes rarely in the kitchens, and therefore the chefs almost never heard their compliments directly. Yes, they were paid for their jobs just like the rest of the staff were, but he and his siblings all shared the sentiment that they couldn’t truly be benevolent leaders without being thankful towards the people who helped them.

Once he had the food and bottles of water, he gave one more round of thanks before heading back to the courtyard. When he arrived, there were two things he noticed immediately; the light-blue coloration of Thomas’s wings, and the amazement written on Patton’s face. The thoughts barely had time to run through his mind before his brother gestured for him to approach quietly, which he did without question.

Thomas continued working on his spells as the younger of the two siblings whispered to the elder, “you didn’t tell me how powerful he is.”

The darker side kept his voice just as low, “I assumed you knew from your comment about him being almost as good as me.”

“I only saw the one spell; I was just trying to be nice!” He glanced back over to the online personality before continuing, “I went and got a bird from the aviary that had passed away not long after we had found it injured, since you’re not supposed to practice healing spells on the living. Do you know what he did?” He shook his head, “at first, everything was normal; the wounds were closing and the bones mending, and that’s when I noticed it…the bird was beginning to move!” He was left speechless by the four words the followed, “he revived the bird!”

“No one can reverse death!”

Morality held his gaze, “tell that to the starling that I just had to have taken back to the aviary!” His voice became breathless, “I can only imagine how much energy it must take to restore a creature’s life…but Thomas didn’t even seem fazed.”

Virgil tried to shake of his shock, “okay, well no matter the case, we need to take our lunch break. Do you have any more spells that you want to teach him after?”

The paternal aspect still looked completely awestruck, “there’s nothing more I can teach him pertaining to healing spells.”

He forced himself to regain his professional demeanor, “in that case, let’s have lunch, and I’ll continue Thomas’s training in offensive spells when we’ve finished eating. Then if I have time, I work with him to see which weapon he can wield most naturally.”

They waited until their former host finished practicing the healing spell he was working on before gesturing for him to join them in the shade. As he took his lunch, the Eldest Prince spoke, trying to hide his shock, “from what Patton’s been telling me, you’ve excelled in healing magic. That being said, you still need more battle training, so after lunch, you will be working with me on offensive spells.”

After that, the three of them did their best to steer clear of the topic of war as they ate, choosing instead to exchange idle pleasantries. Plenty of time and effort was already going into the upcoming battle, so they attempted to have a normal meal as friends. Still, the reprieve felt short-lived as they finished their food, knowing that they would soon have to get back to work.

Surprisingly, Thomas was the first to bring it up, “should we get back to training?”

He gave his companion a concerned glance, after bringing a bird back to life, the fight-or-flight reflex wondered if he had enough energy to continue. “Are you sure you feel up to it…we can rest a while longer if you want.”

“I honestly feel fine,” the online personality paused for a moment, “should I be tired?”

Virgil met his gaze, “if I’m being honest…I don’t know. We stopped knowing what to expect from you the moment we realized you could use more than one form of magic.”

The ethical facet picked up where he left off, “we’re learning as much from you as you are from us kiddo.”

It was clear that their colleague was still trying to take everything in, but after a moment of silence, he let his voice rise into the air. “I know this much, I’m not tired…so if you’re still up for it, I’d like to keep training.”

The observant character nodded, “in that case, let’s get to work on those offensive spells.”

They bid farewell to Patton before getting back to Thomas’s training, and Virgil had to admit that he was glad he had spent centuries pushing himself to his limits. Usually spells took a lot out of the caster, but his friend never seemed to tire, so he considered himself lucky that he himself was trained so well. Whether it was basic magic blasts, temporary blindness, or strength spells, from some of the easiest to the most advanced of fight-or-flight magic, his companion could cast it as if he had been practicing for years.

Finally the militaristic leader panted a few words, “I-I don’t think there’s anything else I can teach you when it comes to magic.”

The online personality looked at him with both concern and surprise, “two things…first, are you okay?”

“J-Just a bit tired, but I’ll be fine.”

His former host nodded, “okay, then have…have I managed to pick up on all of your magic in one day?”

“Not all of it, just defensive magic,” he forced his voice to steady, “you’re a lot more powerful than any of us were expecting.” He paused for a moment, “you might even have a magic of your own that the four of us couldn’t even dream of achieving.”

“Wait…r-really?”

The Eldest Prince nodded slowly, looking over to Thomas, “I don’t want to say this for fear of sounding like Logan, but I am curious. None of us have any control over nature or the elements…and by elements, I don’t mean water or fire or something like that.”

The eyes of his former host grew wide, “hold on…you said nature.” He looked at the grass beneath their feet, “I might sound psychotic, but you don’t feel like something in the ground is pulling at your attention?”

“No I don’t…do you?”

He nodded, but his eyes never wavered from the earth, “it’s been there the whole time we’ve been training.”

“Well…” He looked for the right words, “magic has strange ways of getting your attention, and since we don’t know anything about your personal powers, that nagging at your thoughts could be it trying to get your attention. Dammit, I wish Logan was here to try and explain this.” He sighed, “whatever the case may be, try and tap into that feeling and see what happens.”

The fight-or-flight reflex moved to sit on one of the benches; partially to rest, but also to allow his companion some time and space to concentrate. Still, he watched on in curiosity; could Thomas really have a magic all his own that no trait could ever even think of attempting? He was already so powerful, which left the worrisome attribute to wonder if there was any drawback to his abilities. Surely no one person could harness and use so much magic without it having some sort of negative effect on the holder.

Suddenly, Thomas had a sword in his hands, and it was so without warning that Virgil wondered if he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had failed to notice his friend retrieving the weapon. Still, that begged the question of where the sword had come from to begin with since they weren’t just left laying around the courtyard. Unable to come up with an answer, he merely stared at the King-To-Be in disbelief.

Finally he found his tongue, “wh-where did you get a sword?!”

Thomas seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the blade in his hands, “I-I’m not sure…”

Now he noticed that his colleague was breathless, so he had clearly used some sort of magic, but considering that nothing else had winded him, it must have been a new form of magic. “Well, it couldn’t be a summoning spell, since those only work on enchanted weapons…did anything else happen before the sword appeared?”

The online personality appeared confused for a moment, “err…I don’t know, the dirt shifted under my feet a bit.”

At a complete loss, he got to his feet, gesturing to the bench where he had been sitting, “rest here and catch your breath while I go get Logan for a consult.”

Thomas did what he was told, allowing the Eldest Prince to rush off in the direction of his brother’s office. When he arrived, Logic gave him a concerned glance, “can I help you?”

“I-I need a consult…”

As he trailed off, his sibling got to his feet, “what happened?”

He attempted to catch his breath from running, “I’m not certain, but I think Thomas is capable of…transmutation.”

The intellectual blinked at him in surprise, “but that’s impossible.”

“Yeah, so is using multiple forms of magic, but he can do that too.”

“Fair point,” he straightened his glasses, “what makes you think it was transmutation?”

Virgil felt scatterbrained, something that was odd for him, “well, Thomas said that the dirt beneath his feet shifted before an unenhanced sword appeared in his hand.”

“Was the sword made of metal?”

Sometimes his brother’s obvious questions grated at his nerves, “no it was paper, of course it was metal!”

The teacher seemed unfazed by his outburst, “I just needed to make sure.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “whatever, is there any way to prove if it was transmutation?”

Logan nodded, “if he said the ground shifted, that would mean he took an element from the soil, and the only metal abundant enough in this region to craft a sword from is iron. If it was transmuted from that, then the sword should dissolve in hydrochloric acid.”

“You don’t happen to have any of that on hand, do you?”

He looked as horrified as a logical side could, “getting hydrochloric acid on your hands would result in-”

He cut the tangent off, “it’s a figure of speech, I mean do you have any of the h-hydro…any of the acid we could use for the test?”

“Certainly,” he tossed the word over his shoulder as he headed for what looked like a closet door. When it was opened however, it revealed the white sterile walls of a full laboratory.

“You have a chemistry lab- oh why am I surprised?” The fight-or-flight reflex asked himself the question as his brother disappeared inside.

When he reemerged, he held multiple scientific beakers and other containers on a tray, which he placed on the desk. He grabbed a few more things from the lab before closing the door, “here, carry these.”

He hesitated in taking the containers from the Second-Eldest Prince, “shouldn’t I be wearing gloves before touching anything?”

Logan looked at one of the containers, “Virgil, these are bottles of purified water; so no, you don’t need to wear gloves.”

Taking what was being handed to him, he spoke once more, “I thought we needed that acid stuff…so why do we need water?”

The scientific trait looked at one of the beakers on his tray as he picked it up once more, “well it would be dangerous to use pure hydrochloric acid, thankfully the amount needed to dissolve iron is only twelve moles per liter of water and-”

“I’m sorry I asked, let’s just get down to the courtyard and see if the sword dissolves in the solution or not.”

Together, the pair made their way back to where Thomas was waiting, who looked thoroughly confused by what they were holding. They set everything down on one of the benches before their former host spoke, “what is all that for?”

Logic formulated an answer as he started measuring chemicals, “we think that you managed what we believed was impossible, transmutation.”

The online personality looked surprised, “like _Fullmetal Alchemist_?”

“Sure,” the analyst poured the now measured chemicals gently into the tray, “anyway, to figure out if the sword was made through transmutation, we need to test what elements it is made of. That being said, the only metal abundant enough in the area to make that sword is iron-”

“Which would dissolve in twelve moles of hydrochloric acid per liter of water,” Thomas’s immediately darted to look over the tray in excitement.

“Exactly!”

The gloomier aspect ran his hands down his face, “I’m surrounded by nerds…”

After a moment, his brother looked up, “okay, the solution is ready.”

Their former host took hold of the weapon, and gently placed the blade in the liquid; it took less than a second for gaseous bubbles to begin forming as the surface started to wear away. Even Virgil, who knew as much about chemistry as he did classical music gasped along with the others as they came to the realization that the sword really was made of iron. For a moment they just watched the bubbles rise to the top of the solution in a stunned silence as they tried to grasp what they were seeing.

Finally, it was Thomas who broke the quiet, “so, does this prove that I have the power of…”

“Transmutation…yes it does.”

The intellectual quickly chimed in, “it proves that the sword is made of iron.” He took the blade from the solution and wiped it clean, “if you have the power of transmutation, you should be able to change it again.”

The online personality gazed warily at the weapon as it was placed on the grass, “what do I change it into? I don’t know how much iron is in the sword, so I can’t exactly follow the law of equivalent exchange.”

Logan appeared thoughtful, “try turning the sword into a dagger. The dagger is smaller, so in theory it will take the necessary iron from the sword, and the rest should just remain in the form of the sword that you have already created.”

The two brothers stepped back to give Thomas some space, and just when they were beginning to doubt their resolve, the sword shifted. A moment later a knife lay in its place with what appeared to be a small pile of iron filings beside it. They were all once again too stunned to do anything until the factual character pulled out his notebook and began scribbling again.

His movement snapped the others out of their trance, but it was Thomas who broke the silence, “so, I have the power of transmutation?”

He blinked at his friend, “yes, yes you do…” He did his best to shake of his surprise, “and as amazing and groundbreaking as that is, we need to get back to your training. There are still a few things we need to cover before the battle, so let’s get back to work.”

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, he worked with Thomas on weaponry, and it became apparent quite quickly that he wasn’t comfortable wielding any of them. Still, once he got past that, the fight-or-flight reflex was able to assess his abilities with each type of weapon. He wasn’t agile enough for the close range that a dagger required, and there was no time to teach all the intricacies that came with archery, so that left them with one option, a sword. Thankfully, some of his or Roman’s training must have impacted their former host; because, he understood the overall basics of handling such a blade. Having found what suited him best, the two spent the rest of the time they had working on sword strikes and parries; one of the few things Thomas seemed to struggle with.

They finally had to end the training session to meet the other Princes for an early dinner so they would be able to meet with his troops just before dusk. The meal was fairly uneventful save for the shocked reactions that the others had as each of them realized what Thomas was capable of. It was also clear to him that Roman had made his speech, because nearly every one of the castle staff appeared worried, and some even had tears in their eyes. Obviously, there was a fear among them that this could be the last time they would see one or more of the monarchs for quite some time.

When they had finished their food, the whimsical facet took Thomas to retrieve the military uniform he would be wearing in the battle. Meanwhile, the other three headed to the North Wing to meet with the Commanders who were waiting for them. As promised, every single one of them was battle ready, and had their units accounted for; now they were just awaiting orders.

The Captain gestured for his Second-In-Command to join him outside of the room, and he only spoke once he was certain they were alone, “have you chosen the Commanders for the fifth decoy team?”

Her purple eyes glittered with determination, “yes Sir. The group of fifteen soldiers I have selected will head for the Delegates’ Center under my lead. There, we will forcefully demand that they release the enslaved souls, or be faced with the consequences. Once they are engaged with us, we will lead them back to the meadows where the two groups of the troops will be waiting.”

He nodded, “well done, the teams that hold myself and Prince Patton will be the ones positioned behind the Delegates’ Center, so you will be heading for the troops containing Prince Roman and Prince Logan.”

She held his gaze, “understood.”

He was going to continue, but the sound of footsteps from further down the corridor caused him to falter. A moment later the visionary side followed by Thomas stepped into view; solidifying that everyone was now present, and the battle was imminent. Sharing a few silent greetings, the four of them stepped into the North Wing’s conference room to begin final preparations.

Once they were all inside, Virgil took his place at the head of the table, “tonight we will liberate Asphodel. Troop one, you will be with Prince Roman, Troop Two will be with Prince Logan, Troop Three with Prince Patton, and Troop Four with myself and Thomas. Troops One and Two, you will wait in the meadows for Troop Five to lure the opposing army to you. Troop Three, you will wait to the north-east, concealed by the Delegates’ Center; equally, Troop four will wait to the north-west holding the same position. Once the Asphodelian Army has engaged with Troops One, Two and Five; Troops Three and Four will join the attack, encircling the opposing forces. In the event that Troop Five gets into trouble, Troop Four will move in to assist. Does everyone know their positions?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Good. Finally, Troops One through Three, a Commander needs to stay with the Prince in your troop at all times. As for Troop Four, I will stay with Thomas, but in the event that I am unable to continue, a Commander needs to stay with Thomas. We don’t need Deceit getting a hold of any of us, is that understood?”

“Yes Sir!”

The Eldest Prince turned to face his Second-In-Command, “everything is ready. Once you are certain the other four troops are in place, Troop Five will engage, understood?”

She pushed her shoulders back with a salute, “you can count on me Sir!”

He cast his gaze around to everyone in the room, “in that case we need to get to The Fields of Asphodel.”

Getting everyone through the inter-world gates undetected would be next to impossible, but thankfully he had the ability to grant anyone access to the other worlds. Normally teleporting so many people would leave him so tired that there would be no way for him to keep going, but the spell he had perfected over the years circumnavigated the issue. Instead of taking all the energy from him, it would take a much smaller amount from each person as if they themselves had cast the spell.

Knowing this, he went from troop to troop to get everyone in position, the last being Commander Hawk’s decoy group. While no one was looking he spoke to where only she could hear, “stay safe down their Sytha, I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

She held his gaze, matching his low tone, “you too Virge…I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

Giving her one final nod, he moved to rejoin his own troop, taking his place as their leader, and with a deep breath teleported all five troops to Asphodel. Glancing over, he could just barely see Patton’s group, but the Delegates’ Center obscured his vision of the other three. After a moment, a Commander stepped forward with Thomas, who took his place beside the fight-or-flight reflex nervously.

The voice of his former host was barely audible, and it was clear that he was beginning to rethink his own place in the battle, “are you certain that this is going to work?”

He was hesitant to look away from the Delegates’ Center, but he met his friend’s fearful gaze, “there is never a guarantee with war, but with our plan and knowledge of the other army’s leader…the odds are in our favor.”

“You could have just said yes.”

He turned back to the Delegates’ Center, “that would be lying.”

The intake of breath off to his left told him that the online personality wanted to say more, but he was cut off by the sounds of magic blasts and swords clashing. The Captain put his arm out, a gesture to keep his troop in place until they were certain that the Asphodelian Soldiers were further into the meadows. Seconds felt like hours, and he could only hope that his men and brothers would be okay until they arrived.

As the sounds and flashes of light grew more distant, he finally gave the command for Troops Three and Four to move in. He made sure that Thomas stayed close to his side as they moved to assist the rest of their own army. The opposing forces didn’t notice the second wave of soldiers until they were almost in a position to join the battle, and it was clear that they were not expected. A moment later he jumped in front of the YouTuber, conjuring a shield spell just in time to stop them from being hit by an arrow.

Joining the fray, they both drew their swords, and while his companion used it mostly to deflect strikes, the darker character took a more offensive position. A trait embodying insanity as told by his pale-green eyes moved to attack the Eldest Prince, but his shattered mind made him a rather weak opponent. What he lacked in strength, he made up for in determination. The strikes he gave though poorly aimed were relentless, and he couldn’t allow this trait to keep him from the rest of the fight. Parrying one last strike, Virgil lashed out with his own sword, slashing the blade across the chest of his challenger. A splash of blood was accompanied by the feeling of metal scraping his breast bone, which told him that the one before him was now out of the battle. While he hated having to hurt anyone, but he would do what he had to do to free Asphodel and keep his family safe.

He was turning to join the rest of the battle when Thomas jumped in front of him, blasting back a vengeful trait that would have surely struck the monarch otherwise. He didn’t have time to thank his colleague before a pair of Asphodelian Soldiers jumped for them. He quickly blasted the disillusioned aspect with a temporary blindness spell as the online personality pushed back the anguished facet with his sword.

In one strike, the sword of the militaristic leader successfully took both attackers out of the battle, and for a moment his friend looked as if he might be sick from the sight of blood. Still there was a moment in which the two were able to gain their bearings, so he leaned over, speaking quietly, “traits don’t die forever.” Fear still glimmered in his eyes so, he continued, “Thomas…remember what we are fighting for.”

The online personality barely had time to nod in understanding, a sense of determination taking hold of him before the fight-or-flight reflex caught sight of something that sent a chill down his spine. Near the base of the walkway which led to the Delegates’ Center, Commander Hawk was pinned down by the same vengeful and rage-fueled traits which had been posted as guards two days before. “Commander Harran, stay with Thomas!”

He didn’t wait for a response as he darted off; he knew it was a risk to deviate from his troop as being on his own made him a target, but he had to help his Second-In-Command. One trait tried to intercept him, but he blasted him backwards without a second thought. A moment later he jumped between the two attackers and his ally; the pitch-black eyes of the vengeful trait glittered with malice. “We have been ordered to take you to Lord Deceit alive, but we will take great pleasure in maiming you before we do!”

“You won’t get the chance!” He hissed the words, ducking under the sword of the angered trait before plunging his own blade to the hilt into the stomach of the vengeful aspect. His attacker attempted to choke out a few words as Virgil freed his weapon, but he wasn’t going to be fast enough to strike the rage-fueled facet. A moment later though, an arrow buried itself into the chest of the other guard, and he spun around to see Commander Hawk lowering her bow, “good shot.”

She stared down at the pair of traits, the one embodying vengeance had stopped moving, but the furious character was still trying to get up and fight. She shouldered her bow and drew her sword, slashing the aspect across the chest with a few words, “enjoy Tartarus!”

Patton had never been part of a real war, and every fiber of his being protested against the violence happening around him. That simple fact was probably the reason that he was one of the only moral facets on the battlefield; most others would have thought all the fighting to be wrong and continue attempting to find a diplomatic solution. No matter the case, he chose to partake in the battle because he knew what they were fighting for was right. Still, he was thankful that Virgil had had the foresight to assign a Commander to stay at his side to help guide and protect him.

As his troop pressed forward, he knew he would have no choice but to start helping and fight for himself rather than letting everyone else protect him. No sooner had he drew his dagger did a vengeful trait lunge for him, and without thinking, he slashed out his blade. He felt his stomach turn as he realized that in turning his head away, his aim had landed his strike across his attacker’s throat, an action he had to complete by applying more force to get the blade through the tendon. It took all of his power not to use a healing spell on the one who had attempted to kill him, and to keep from changing his mind, he darted after the Commander assigned to him, not daring to look back at the carnage.

A moment later a force knocked him off his feet, and he landed on the ground with a dull thud; he couldn’t use his knife to protect himself as the arm holding it had been pinned down. Midnight-blue eyes glittered with victory as the man on top of him lifted his own dagger to plunge it into the chest of the Youngest Prince. Thoughts rushed through his mind at the speed of light in what could be his final moments, but one thought dominated the others, something about the eyes of the one who was trying to kill him looked oddly familiar. Something about them tugged at a memory that he couldn’t quite recall, almost as if he had forced himself to forget it.

Just as the dagger was going to pierce his skin, his attacker was thrown off him by the Commander who had been by his side for the majority of the battle. He choked out a few words through his struggle, “find the Captain! He was wrong, Deceit o-”

The words were cut off as a blade was forced through the Commander’s throat, “get off him!” Morality jumped forward his fear of battle forgotten as he plunged his knife into the spine of the corrupted trait.

Pulling the dagger out, the attacker fell to the ground beside the Commander, leaving him to wonder what the end of his statement was going to be. What had Virgil been wrong about? His thoughts were cut short as an apathetic aspect jumped towards him, during his struggle with her, everything started to become clear.

Once he had fended her off, he realized that if Deceit wanted to kill the Princes personally, his soldiers would be trying to capture, not kill him. Falling back, he whipped his head around, trying his best to find his brother, but when the ethical facet caught sight of him, he knew there was no getting to him. He stood on the pathway of the Delegates’ Center fighting side by side with Commander Hawk. Even though his eldest sibling was in danger, there was no way to warn him, so he began looking around again, trying to find someone who could.

Finally his eyes rested on Thomas who was fending off a disorientated trait, “you need to get to Virgil!”

His former host sounded stunned, “why? He’s with Commander Hawk.”

The father figure wished he had the time to give a full explanation, or to catch his breath, “Deceit isn’t targeting the Princes.” He took a deep breath, “I don’t know for sure, but I think he is after Virgil specifically since taking him out would give Asphodel the advantage.” He turned to look over at his brother, “and right now he’s completely exposed.”

Thomas’s head spun with the information that Patton had just given him, “I’ll go get him!”

He barely heard the words called after him, “be safe!”

As the online personality darted through the battlefield he didn’t have the first clue of what he was supposed to do. War something completely new to him, he’d only had one day to train, and the battle was already pushing him to extremes. Now one question ran through his mind, how was he supposed to get to, let alone protect Virgil?

Like lightning a feeling tugged at his heart, similar to the one he’d had before transmuting the sword, but this feeling came from within him. Taking the advice of his life-long friend, he closed his eyes, allowed the magic to take over, and after a moment he could feel power rush through him pushing away some of the strain he had been dealing with. Opening his eyes he was stunned to realize that he was taller, and more than that, his hair was darker too. He was entirely lost until he caught sight of his reflection in his sword; his eyes were no longer hazel, but bright purple. Apparently his magic allowed him to shape shift without a _Shadow Veil_ because he had completely taken on Virgil’s form.

At first he worried that others would look to him, but then he realized, that’s exactly what he wanted, others looking at _him_. If Deceit thought that _Thomas_ was the one he was after, then Virgil would be safe, at least long enough to get himself back to his troop. Having made up his mind, he moved towards one of the soldiers, “Commander Harran, has there been any sign of Deceit?”

“Yes Captain, he has been spotted in the battle near Troop Two. Commander Ryker said he wasn’t attacking anyone who didn’t get in his way as if he were looking for someone specific.”

He dipped his head in thanks before heading for the south-eastern part of the meadow where Troop Two was fighting. Commander Harran’s words had only further solidified Patton’s claim, apparently Deceit was after Virgil, and Virgil alone. He didn’t hesitate in blasting back disillusioned trait that tried to get in his way, realizing that defensive magic came much more naturally to him in Virgil’s form. His strength had increased as well, seeing as he managed to disarm a vengeful aspect with his sword much more readily than he had in his form, leaving him to wonder how much war the Eldest Prince had seen. He forced his mind away from the thought as well as the pain he was inflicting; he needed to remain detached and professional if he was going to trick anyone into believing that _he_ was Virgil.

Once he was in the south-east quadrant, it didn’t take him long to spot Deceit, who quickly caught sight of him as well. Knowing that the Asphodelian Leader would follow him until he caught up, Thomas headed back for the center of the battle. He hoped that once he grew closer to one of the other Commanders, they would help him to take his opponent down.

Staying away from the malicious facet proved to be more difficult than he had expected, which made it nearly impossible to look for the Commanders. He was closer to the Delegates’ Center than he had wanted to be, so he just had to hope that Deceit wouldn’t notice that there were two Virgils. His thoughts taking center stage proved to be a mistake as a blunt object intersected with his right shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

He swiftly flipped over to see Deceit standing over him, “looks like our assignment has made you soft Virge.”

“Not as much as you would like to think!” On the last word, he kicked his legs upward as hard as he could, toppling the duplicitous side when his feet contacted with his opponent’s chest. He only had a moment, but Thomas used it to get back to his feet, and braced himself for another attack.

Virgil was heading back into the battle when Commander Hawk inhaled sharply from where she was following behind him. Turning to face her, he realized that her eyes were trained on the battlefield, but once again her shock just served to unnerve him. Not much spooked her, so he shifted his gaze to the fight, and what he saw actually caused him to freeze momentarily. Deceit was sent flying backwards by a well aimed and powerful kick, but that was far from what surprised him so. What caused him to falter was in the moment while he was out of action, the person who got up after the kick was _him_.

“H-How can you be over there if you’re right here?”

He was asking himself the same question; his hand went to his shoulder, and sure enough, his _Shadow Veil_ was still there. Shape shifting was impossible without the assistance of _Angelwright_ ; just as the words crossed his mind; his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Six hours ago he would have said that transmutation was impossible, but _Thomas_ had proved him wrong. He glanced back at his Second-In-Command, “we have to go help Thomas!”

Sytha glanced back to the fight, “I’m a little more concerned about the other _you_!”

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the walkway, “that _is_ Thomas!”

She pulled her arm free but continued to follow in his wake, “he has a _Shadow Veil_?”

He blasted an insane trait out of their way as the Commander shot down another vengeful aspect, “no, but he’s capable of far more than we expected.” The fight-or-flight reflex braced himself for more questions, but there were none; apparently his Second-In-Command had even more trust in him than he’d thought. The pair fought off Asphodelian Soldiers and pushed past their own men, casting the occasional spell to clear the path.

Deceit had gotten to his feet, and was about to plunge his sword into Thomas’s chest when the Eldest Prince jumped in blocking the strike with his own sword. His enemy appeared stunned by his appearance, “what’s wrong Deceit…seeing double?” He took advantage of the shock his opponent was in and used it to push him away. For a moment the two stood at an impasse, allowing Commander Hawk to help _Virgil_ to his feet.

“H-How are there two of you?!”

“There aren’t,” Thomas’s voice chimed from behind him, and judging by the expression the untrustworthy character wore, the online personality was back to himself. There was no response, just another strike which the observant figure deflected, but they kept coming, and that’s when he heard Thomas’s words once more. “He’s not after the other Princes, he’s only after you!”

While the two were stuck in a parry with their swords crossed, the liar leaned forward with a hiss, “what would I want with your useless brothers? You can see in my eyes that I’m telling the truth this time.”

His yellow eyes indeed betrayed that he was telling the truth, but as the fight-or-flight reflex shoved him away, he spoke. “Then that begs the question, what do you want with me?”

He braced himself for another attack, but for the moment, the duplicitous character glared at him with a sense of hatred he had never experienced before, “fair treatment!” Too late on the pickup, he realized that Deceit’s hand was glowing with yellow magic shrouded in shadow, and a moment later that same darkness took over his vision.

When he could see again, he wondered if he had been rendered unconscious for a time, because what he saw hurt worse than any physical wound ever could. He took in a shaky breath as he saw his brothers along with Thomas standing on the terrace of the Delegates’ Center in shackles, lined up for execution. Behind him, his troops and many Asphodelian Soldiers lay dead with their blood watering the meadows of Asphodel. Glancing over the horrific carnage he realized that Commander Hawk lay at his feet, her intense, purple eyes glazed over gazing at him with the betrayal she had felt in her final moments. The enslaved souls were being forced to follow the lead of the corrupted traits to lay siege on the other three planes. His heart shattered as he realized that he had failed everyone; Thomas, his brothers, his men, and his subjects.

All the while, Deceit laughed in the face of the Princes’ defeat; that crazed, psychotic laugh and; wait, why did it sound so distant? The question gave Virgil a moment of clarity, what he was seeing, all of it was a _lie_. The revelation was not enough to break the spell entirely, he was still being forced to envision his worst nightmare, but he could now see the real Deceit standing before him.

It became clear in that moment that there was only one way to bring an end to the battle, he was going to have to fight fire with fire; or in this case, fear with fear. To do that he would have to call on a part of himself he had repressed for millennia, something he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do, as it was a part of himself that he was uncertain he could control. After all, he had failed to control it last time, but it was the only way, and if he couldn’t control it; well, his brothers knew how to handle him.

Having made his decision, he leveled his gaze with the figure of Deceit standing before him in the field of his fallen friends. For a moment darkness clouded his mind, but with it power rushed through his body, a power he would attempt to use for good. Still, despite the horrors he could see and his attempt to repress it, he stood upright as a laugh made its way to his lips.

Roman felt a chill run down his spine as he witnessed Virgil being hit with a blast of darkened magic. His brother now held his sword loosely in his hand, his breath quick and shallow as Deceit laughed as if his mind had become completely unhinged. All the while, the fight-or-flight reflex seemed to be staring at something between himself and his attacker, but he made no attempt to retaliate.

He wondered if he would have to jump in to stop the liar from killing his sibling in a moment of weakness when the one in question raised his head slightly. After a second, he watched the negative side grip his sword more firmly and rise to full height, a guttural, cruel laugh echoing from his throat. The sound sent a shiver of worry and dread down his spine; he knew that deep, powerful, and merciless laugh.

He shuddered at the memory; after the other three had risen to power, Virgil had felt that he had fallen out of the grace of their subjects. He had resented those who loved him, believing that their subjects didn’t respect and understand him the way they did the other rulers. Eventually, he had decided he’d had enough, and in doing so had called upon a dark magic that rivaled the power of all three of the other Princes. The worst part of it all had been that he’d intended upon using that power to force their subjects, and the other monarchs to bow before him and him alone.

It had taken all three of the other rulers to take on the shadowed shell of their kin, _Vigil_ ; and even then, they had barely been able to best him. Still, the whole battle had come at a grave cost; even though he still didn’t know where his brother had gone, Vigil had been banished from the Astral Plane for a thousand years. Upon his return, _Virgil_ had repented for his actions, begging forgiveness from his kin and those they ruled over.

After all of that, he couldn’t understand why the Eldest Prince would call on the same dark magic that had caused his downfall so many years ago. It was a fact which was brought more fully into perspective when it was realized that it had almost put him in a position so similar to that of the one which Deceit was currently. He just had to hope that his brother knew what he was doing.

The laughter caught the attention of the duplicitous trait looked more fearful than he ever had in the past, even taking a few paces away from the now malicious monarch. He felt the same sense of fear come over him as Virgil, or now _Vigil_ extended his wings, which had become bat-like in nature, another sign that he was giving in to the dark form of magic. A glow the color of the night sky radiated from his being, and in an instant, that same magic had thrown Asphodel’s leading delegate from his feet. It pinned him against the wall of one of the nearby ruined buildings, causing debris to rain down around him.

He shivered as Vigil spoke in his low and resonating tone, “you think that you have found power in shadows and fear? Do you understand just how strong such things can be, the strengths that you have been _gifted_ with?” He stared down at Deceit as if he were prey to a hunter, “the same power I was born into!” Vigil took a pace forward, “you use darkness to elicit fear, but let me ask you this…where do the powerful shadows all go to hide from the idolized light of day?! Who do you believe stands against them?” His voice took on a tone of cruel humor, “the strengths you hold in your heart are but a simple shard of their fully sharpened power…the same power I face in an unyielding battle each and every night!” Once again, the hollow laughter resonated through the meadows, “you are nothing compared to them! You are nothing compared to _me_!”

The shadowed magic around Deceit’s hand faded as he turned away from the monster before him, “d-don’t!”

Vigil took a small step back, but made no indication that he was going to release his prisoner, “you attempt to strike fear into those around you…well it’s time you witnessed true horror!” The night-like magic clouded the eyes of the deceptive aspect, who began thrashing wildly, clearly trying to get away from whatever the spell was forcing him to see. Vigil’s voice had resonated through the entire plane, and that partnered with Deceit’s screams, caused the battle around them to come to a halt as everyone turned to watch. Suddenly, Roman realized that _Virgil_ had more power over _Vigil_ now than he’d had in the past, because he actually glanced to the ground before showing his enemy mercy by letting the spell fade.

There was no way Virgil was going to let Deceit get away this time, he had caused so much damage with the fear that the Eldest Prince had grown so tired of, so it was time he got a dose of his own medicine. Still, the screams of his captive snapped him back to reality, and he realized that his actions were not his own, but _Vigil’s_. How could he try to rule over his subjects with care if he was willing to inflict such torment on someone’s mind with no relent? Taking a deep breath, he did his best to control the power that coursed through his veins; doing something that _Vigil_ never would, show mercy.

He allowed the spell to fade, and retracted the dark magic back to his own being, and used his sword, which he leveled to the leading delegate’s throat to keep him pinned. When he was certain his prisoner had returned fully to reality, he shouted in Vigil’s deep tone, realizing that both armies were already listening as the battle had come to a halt. “You never were very smart; if you were you would have known that spell would have worked if you had chosen any other emotion.” He noticed that there was slight movement in the crowd as his brothers made their way closer. “Still, you went with the one emotion I could see right through…fear!” He held the liar’s gaze, “it’s adorable that you thought that would work, but now you have witnessed a true display of terror!”

Deceit dared to look away from the blade against his throat and met his gaze, “w-well, you have me at your whim, so what are you going to do with me your _highness_?!”

The last word was hissed at him with all the venom of a cobra, but Virgil ignored it, “you’ll see.” He looked around at the two opposing forces, “Asphodelians, answer me this, is Deceit correct when he claims that you want fair treatment?!” Those nearest to them jumped away; the mere sound of _Vigil’s_ voice striking them with fear, but soon apprehensive sounds of concurrence rippled through the crowd, “and you would do anything to get it?!”

There were more sounds of agreement; but one trait, anguished in nature turned her dark-green eyes to him bravely, “Do you have a suggestion? It’s not like we can go back to the Astral Plane, and all because of _your_ laws!”

She backed away under his piercing gaze, “maybe not right now, but what if I told you that I knew how to reverse the corruption process?!”

Hesitant voices rang out from both armies, “that’s impossible!”

“I thought so too until recently,” his words were met with an uneasy silence, allowing him to continue. “I know the process can be reversed because I have seen it done!” Shock filtered through the people surrounding them, including his brothers and Thomas. “I’ve not only seen it reversed, but _I_ was the one who went through the change!” Even his family joined in on the whispers of surprise, but he wasn’t finished yet, “those of you nearest me, can you confirm that my eyes are purple, the sign that I am a fight-or-flight trait?!”

Confirmations were shouted to those standing further away, but they were all cut off by Roman’s betrayed tone, “ _you_ were never a corrupted trait…now; you’ve made your point _Vigil_ so give _Virgil_ back to us!”

“Oh Roman…I was a corrupted trait, I thought- no, I am certain you all knew.”

His brothers glared at him the way they had early during their assignment, but he couldn’t tell if that came from his claim or from Vigil’s presence, “no we didn’t!”

He held the gaze of the Second-Youngest Prince, “really…I think you all have just _chosen_ to forget out of shame.” He continued before they could protest further, “you all have, but…” His eyes locked on his enemy, “Deceit hasn’t. That’s why you targeted me rather than my brothers; you assumed that my corruption was stripped away due to my royal standing.” He didn’t miss the way his enemy looked over his form, “oh, this is something much more powerful than corruption, but that isn’t the point here. If my royal standing had been the reason for the reversal of my corruption, the process wouldn’t have occurred until I returned to the Astral Plane, but that’s not what happened.” He held the gaze of the one beneath his blade, “so, for the first time, since my brothers seem to have forgotten…what was I known as at the beginning of our assignment?”

The liar stared up at him with contempt as he shouted out the word for all of both armies to hear, “ _Anxiety_!”

The copious sharp intakes of breath were rivaled by Patton’s soft tone, “th-the midnight-blue eyes…”

The former corrupted trait turned his attention back to the crowd, “if you want to return to your old lives and go back to the Astral Plane, then listen to me!” A pin drop could have been heard in the following silence, “I suffered as a corrupted trait, just as I know all of you have, but the solution stands before you each time you are assigned! You feel alone and ostracized, but the care and acceptance of those assigned with you can reverse the issue! Show those you are assigned with that you are willing to show them respect and kindness; give them a reason to accept you as a friend and you can change who you have been for so many years! It was that exact mentality, and camaraderie I shared which served to reverse the process in me, and it will do the same for you!”

The brave anguished facet stepped forward once more, “but the traits from the Astral Plane will never accept us!”

This time she held Vigil’s stare, “that’s where we as the Princes come in, we can make a declaration to them that you all are willing to change and put your past behind you! We can ask them to aid you, and if you attempt to show them respect in return, they _will_ aid you! The process isn’t always easy, but as long as both groups try; I promise, it will work!” He turned his gaze back to his prisoner, “I wanted to come to Asphodel to tell all of you this without bloodshed, but you didn’t allow me to. You have denied these people a chance at redemption, but no longer…” The Eldest Prince removed the blade from his throat, “you have a chance to be the leader these people deserve until you yourself are given another chance at reversion.” Deceit got to his feet, “you now have a choice to make, end this bloodshed and give your people a chance…or continue to fight and deny them further.”

Everyone’s eyes were glued to the pair as he dropped his sword, offering his hand as a sign of peace. “You’re right, I was wrong…” The dark power that coursed through Virgil made him realize too late that the one before him wasn’t referring to his offer, “I was after the wrong person!” Screaming the last words like a mad man, the liar lunged past him; pulling a dagger from his belt and plunged it to the hilt in Thomas’s heart. “You know, this looks familiar…oh yes, this is just the way your precious Prince Virgil looked when I did something very similar to him!”

Time seemed to slow as he twisted and retracted the knife before anyone had a chance to react, but before the monarchs could gain their bearings the anguished trait threw herself at Deceit. She screamed as she knocked him to the ground, “just because you don’t want a second chance doesn’t mean that the rest of us don’t either!”

The shock was enough to strip Virgil of the dark magic he’d been harboring, and he barely noticed that the entire Asphodelian Army was turning against their leader as he rushed to Thomas’s side. Patton sat by their friend, trying desperately to heal him; meanwhile, Logan was on his knees taking Thomas’s vitals. Roman sat to the other side, trying to console the moral side while also pleading for their companion to stay with them.

“Th-This is my f-fault,” Virgil didn’t even try to keep the tears from streaming down his face as he stumbled over to the others. “I-I should have never allowed him to come with us. I-I shouldn’t have let Deceit up, I-I shouldn’t have let Vigil take control!  I-”

“D-Don’t blame yourself,” Thomas’s breathing was short and shallow, “I-I wanted to do th-this.”

Sobbing, the Eldest Prince resorted to begging with the inevitable, “pl-please, don’t g-go...we don’t know if you’ll come b-back!”

“A-As long as you all r-remember me…I won’t be g-gone,” he was gasping for air now, “I-I’ll live on in a-all of you…” Breathing the last word, Thomas’s head fell to the side as the last threads of life slipped from his grasp.

Patton sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to Logan whose professionalism was momentarily forgotten as tears sparkled in his own sorrow filled eyes. Roman had hidden his face in his hands, but his shoulders were visibly shaking with grief for their fallen friend. Virgil, normally so cold and so distant felt his emotions cave; never before had he grown so close to a host, never allowing himself to be exposed.

He regretted ever letting himself hope that they would be given something that other traits were granted in turn, but the Princes always denied. He had allowed himself to hope that someone who they should have never seen again could stand by their side forever, turning their eternal life in the Astral Plane to a personal Elysium. Now, that hope had been dashed, and more than his heart lay broken; his soul and spirit lay shattered, each piece stinging like a shard of glass. He had vowed never to let himself be tricked by hope, but he had broken that vow, and now he, his brothers, but most importantly, Thomas had paid the price for it.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, and though Virgil was the only one still standing, he felt his legs finally give way, and fell to his knees as if a dagger had pierced his own heart. They were all so consumed by grief that he at first didn’t realize what was happening before them, but he quickly noticed that his whole being was beginning to glow with a bright purple light. Daring to glance up, he saw that the same was happening to his siblings, each with their own color; dark-blue, red, and light-blue. After a moment the light reached their fallen companion, and his body began shimmering with a golden glow; stunned and grieving, the four monarchs could only watch on through their tears.

The light became so bright that each of them were forced to turn away from their friend for risk of being blinded. Slowly, it began to fade, and before they could turn back, there was a feeble yet unmistakable intake of breath. Their eyes snapped back to Thomas, who now wore an all white uniform, and a golden crown that was even more extravagant than Roman’s. His wings had also changed from silver to gold, but they still sent off an array of colors from each feather. The change was quickly forgotten however as Thomas’s eyes flickered open, but rather than hazel, they too took on a golden hue as he looked around at each of them.

He sat up with no sign that he had ever been wounded, “you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Sorrow turned to joy as each of the Princes enveloped him in a group hug, not wanting to let go in case what they were seeing was just a dream.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that before the five of them dared to get to their feet. Once at full height, Commander Hawk’s voice rose into the silence, “all bow before the Princes, and the King!”

Everyone from both armies knelt before the five of them, but it was the words Sytha had spoken which brought hushed words to Virgil’s lips.

_‘Before him the sovereign four would kneel,_

_And with that, the worlds’ fate he would seal._

_At the final moment all would see,_

_A true prophecy become history.’_

 

Those standing by his side stared at him in awe as they came to the realization that they had all just witnessed their longest standing story become a reality. Not hesitating, the Eldest Prince turned to his friend, bowing deeply; and one by one, his brothers and both opposing armies followed suit. When they stood once more, Thomas looked both honored and slightly embarrassed, “I’ll make you a deal…I won’t refer to you all as _Princes_ if you promise not to refer to me as _King_.”

They all fell whim to their laughter until someone approached in a deep bow, and when he finally looked up, the fight-or-flight reflex recognized the midnight-blue eyes of the anxious trait all too well. The newcomer’s voice shook as he addressed them, “your highnesses, I stand before you as a voice for Asphodel. I ask that you do not allow Deceit’s actions to speak for all of us, as we humbly ask your forgiveness, and that you help us to return to the life we have all longed for.”

Thomas looked over to him, but he simply nodded in the direction of the one who had spoken, and after a moment the King looked across the crowd his voice filling the air, “you will all be granted a chance for reversion.”

Cheers rang out until Virgil stepped forward, “what’s your name?”

“V-Vincent, your majesty,” he couldn’t shake how much the one before him reminded him of himself.

“Well Vincent, you have shown bravery in approaching us, and a deep care for your colleagues through your kind words. It is my belief that The Fields of Asphodel would flourish under your guidance; so, if you would take the position, you shall be the new leading delegate of Asphodel.”

He appeared startled by the proposition, “m-me…are you certain your highness?”

The Eldest Prince shared glances with those standing with him, “we all do.”

Vincent looked at all five monarchs, “if it is your wish, then…I accept.” Giving a final bow, he turned back to the crowd, “my first order as leading delegate is this; all the Asphodelian Souls are to be freed immediately. They are in no way inferior to us or anyone else, so if they are to work, they are to be paid and treated fairly.”

A few corrupted traits stepped forward, but it was a vengeful aspect who spoke in a surprisingly respectful tone, “if you want, we will go to release the souls now.”

“Make it so,” the traits hurried off to do as they had been told.

Thomas moved to stand beside Vincent, “let’s give them a home to return to…”

They all watched on in amazement as a golden magic radiated out from where the King stood, quickly spreading across the land. Grass returned as dead and burnt trees were brought back to life with leaves by the millions. Crystalline water flowed through the once dry river bed and fields plowed themselves with decimated crops springing up in them. Homes rebuilt themselves into the communities they had once been, and finally the Delegates’ Center returned to its hospitable but not flamboyant state. The Fields of Asphodel had finally returned to what it should be, and balance was finally restored.

The leading delegate was left with instructions on how to run the land properly with the promise that the monarchs and the Council of the Ethereal planes would soon be in touch. Both to aid in restoration and deliver new laws put in place pertaining the reversal of the corruption process. Their final sights in Asphodel were souls returning to their homes, and traits leaving to treat their injuries and mourn their losses.

When they returned to the Astral Plane, their subjects were waiting anxiously to hear the outcome of the battle. Roman was quick to announce not only their victory, but also the ascension of their new King. Thomas appeared somewhat overwhelmed by the cheers that rang out for him, but Virgil’s attention was drawn to the families which had been let inside the palace walls to greet the returning soldiers. Some wept for their losses, knowing the terrible trek that their loved ones would be forced to go through before they could return home. Commander Harran’s family appeared especially torn as his wife held to the son he had mentioned.

Glancing around, the next to catch his attention startled him slightly, Commander Hawk ran into the arms of a blonde creative trait. The woman returned Sytha’s hug before placing a kiss upon her lips, and the Eldest Prince felt himself smile slightly at the words that followed, “I’m so glad you are safe love!”

His Second-In-Command caught his eye, and for a brief moment she appeared concerned, as if the revelation of her sexuality would cause her to lose her position. Smiling a bit wider, he pulled the collar of his uniform down to reveal the rainbow mark Thomas had left over his heart. He watched as her eyes grew wide with the realization that she would not only keep her job, but that her Captain understood why she loved who she did.

The monarchs watched the reunions with bittersweet emotions, they were all glad that Asphodel had been liberated, but the cost of such an event was still too high. After some time, the families were escorted back to the nearby towns, and those who had lost loved ones left with the promise of compensation until their return. Finally alone, the Princes and the King headed back into the palace to begin their work to continue Asphodel’s restoration and the new laws for the reversal of the corruption process.

It had been some time since the war and winter’s chill gripped the kingdom, but no one felt sorrow with the cold. Most of those slain in the battle had returned home from Tartarus and gone back to their homes and families. The souls who called The Fields of Asphodel home had long since been freed, and in his regular checks on the land, Virgil was happy to see the plane restored to what it had once been. They could now live peaceful afterlives without fear of retribution, and the government had taken steps to ensure it remained that way.

Shortly after their arrival back to the Astral Plane, the rulers began the efforts to aid corrupted traits in returning to their old lives. Prince Logan had written new laws and ordinances pertaining to the treatment of all traits, corrupted or otherwise. He and the Council of the Ethereal Planes had also decided that corrupted traits or those who had formerly been corrupted were the only ones allowed to be delegates in The Fields of Asphodel, as it granted a sense of understanding to the residents there. Prince Patton had over seen the new laws being placed into action, ensuring that all traits were given the chance to live their lives to the fullest and best. Prince Roman continued to tend to his tasks as the Prince of the Day, after he and King Thomas had made a declaration of the newly found reversal process, and explained the role their subjects would play in it. They had also planned and attended social gatherings to help reintroduce formerly corrupted traits back into the life they would lead in the Astral Plane. The Prince of the Night continued to oversee his tasks, but also became a voice for corrupted traits in the government as part of the Council of the Ethereal Planes. That added to the nonexistent threat of war in their worlds, Prince Virgil used his troops to help with restoration in Asphodel, and with so many traits in need of relocation, they had been assigned tasks to aid in that as well. Their work combined helped both souls and traits to live in comfort and harmony.

As for King Thomas, he had slowly adjusted to his new and regal life, warming up to his responsibilities as he began to see the positive effects they had on their subjects. He had even been granted the ability to travel to and from Elysium whenever he so desired to visit Joan and Talyn, who had been more than a little surprised by their friend’s new rank. Still, Thomas spent most of his days in the Astral Plane with the Princes, helping to rule all of their worlds with care and grace.

He truly was, a man of strength never to cower, who was never corrupted by his power. He had a quick wit, but was daring and bold, yet still he was just, with a heart of gold. Once he had taken his rightful place, his rule consisted of care and grace.

Before him the sovereign four had knelt, the effects of which all worlds had felt. At the final moment all had seen,

_“A true_ _prophecy become history.”_


End file.
